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Jeongin has been rooted to his bed all day. He needs to get up, needs to do stuff but for some reason, he just can’t. He lies there in the same position he woke up in, phone in hand as he scrolls and scrolls. His eyes hurt from the strain of watching short formed videos all day but he can’t put his phone down. The news really was right, doomscrolling can be a dangerous thing.
Jeongin closes out of Instagram but still doesn’t get up. He stays there, glued to his mattress despite not actively looking at anything on his phone.
Get up. He tells himself. His body still won’t move. You have to go take a shower before dinner tonight. The others won’t appreciate it if you show up smelling like you live in a dumpster.
Jeongin’s legs twitch under his blankets and he finally musters up the strength to move. He rolls over onto his other side, tugging his blanket farther up his shoulder. A louder voice echoes in his mind.
I’ll just cancel. I can’t get up anyways.
Jeongin finds himself agreeing with that louder voice in his head. He opens TikTok.
One hour quickly becomes two, which quickly becomes three. His shoulders ache from the fetus position he’s curled himself into, but he doesn’t do anything about it. His stomach rumbles in need of food but he once again doesn’t do anything about it. His eyes flick up to the time displayed on the top of his screen.
3:30 pm.
He has the mind to wince at how long he’s been rolling around in bed but he still…doesn’t do anything about it.
Get up! What’s wrong with you, that smaller voice hisses in his ear. His arm twitches. He scrolls to the next video.
One video after another. His thumb should feel tired but it doesn’t. His eyes feel more tired. His heart feels more tired. He looks up at the time again.
5:00 pm.
He has to be at the hotpot restaurant at 7 at the latest for dinner with his friends. He still needs to shower, still needs to find something to wear—still needs to find his dignity.
At this rate, you’ll just be late. Why show up at all if you’re just going to show up half an hour late?
Jeongin rolls onto his back and sighs. Without thinking it through again, he opens his messages app and types out a message to the group chat.
‘Sorry guys, something came up, I won’t be able to go for dinner’
His mouth tastes bitter at the blatant lie. Nothing’s come up and he doesn’t know why he’s lying about that. But can he really just tell them ‘sorry guys, I haven’t showered in a week and I don’t want to have to get up to do that now’? Is it so simple to tell them, ‘my lazy ass won’t get up from bed for the life of me, so I’m not showing up to dinner’?
His heart only seems to ache more at the responses.
‘Awww…okay then :(‘
‘That’s okay, innie! No worries, we can always meet up again some other day!’
Before he can read the rest of the responses, he turns his phone off and shoves it off to the side. He hugs a pillow close to his chest and burrows further into his blanket. He’s dead asleep in less than a second.
He doesn’t know how long he stays asleep for after that. All he knows is that when he does wake up, he’s drenched in sweat and he’s so hungry his stomach has resorted to eating itself. He grunts to himself and rolls over, rubbing at his eyes to will himself to fall back asleep. When he’s asleep he doesn’t have to worry about taking a shower or brushing his teeth or talking to his friends. When he’s asleep he doesn’t have to think about the pang in his stomach or the deep aches in his back. He doesn’t have to deal with the guilt while not doing anything about it.
When he’s asleep, his life feels peaceful. He wishes he could remain asleep forever.
——
The next day, Jeongin gets out of bed. He peels himself off his mattress and rolls onto his feet. He feels like he’s treading through water as he maneuvers his way out of his bedroom, stepping over piles and piles of dirty clothes.
When he leaves his bedroom, he goes to the bathroom. The entire time he’s in the bathroom relieving himself, he averts his eyes from the shower he hasn’t used in a week, then averts his eyes from the abandoned toothbrush on his sink as he washes his hands. But most importantly, he averts his eyes from the mirror, from his own reflection. When he stumbles out of the bathroom, he makes his way to the kitchen. A look of disgust crosses his face as he takes in the sight of dirty dishes strewn all over the counters, his trash can overflowing. Yet, he doesn’t do anything about it.
He treads water as he walks to his fridge. He doesn’t know what he expects to see in there, considering it’s been almost a month since he last went grocery shopping. It’s not like food magically spawned in there. Still, when he takes in the contents, he feels widely disappointed.
A bag of shredded cheese that is no doubt already expired. A bottle of ketchup next to a bottle of mustard, both almost empty. Two containers of takeout from last week. A singular egg. A carton of milk that’s long past its expiration date. And a cucumber.
Lovely.
Jeongin swings the fridge shut that same second, turning instead to his pantry. His pantry’s just as upsetting, especially with the lack of ramyeon. Jeongin’s stomach growls loudly, sharp hunger pangs striking his stomach and leaving him clutching it. He grabs the first thing he sees, a rolled up bag of chips, and stumbles back to his bedroom, back into his bed.
The chips are stale and widely unappetizing so Jeongin ends up eating at least three to stave his hunger before putting it away. And by putting it away, he tosses the still open bag of chips onto the floor.
12:45 pm.
Jeongin’s scrolling through TikTok, going down a rabbit hole of lore from this game he doesn’t even play when he gets a text. He’s muted the group chat, so the notification catches his eye. Someone’s texting him individually. He clicks on it and immediately regrets it. His stomach drops out of his fucking ass.
Channie hyung 💕
Hey baby
You free?
Jeongin’s phone all but slips out of his hands, landing on his blanket with a quiet thump as his hands fly up to his face. He buries his face into both palms, eyes squeezing shut. Fuck how could he have forgotten?
You seriously forgot about your boyfriend?
Jeongin shakes his head to try and will that voice away. It only grows louder.
He’s probably asking if you’re free so he can break up with you. I mean, who just ghosts their boyfriend for three weeks?
“I didn’t ghost him, I just—I just,” he responds to the voice out loud. He probably looks and sounds crazy, talking to the voice in his head like this.
You just what? You’ve just been a lazy bastard avoiding everyone for no reason? Avoiding your boyfriend for no reason?
Jeongin shakes his head again, the heel of his palm digging into his eyes. And then his phone pings again. He lowers his hands to peer at it, the screen lighting back up on his conversation with Chan.
Channie hyung 💕
Do you wanna get some lunch?
I’ll pay ;)
Jeongin’s thumbs tremble over the keypad. Fuck, what the hell does he say? He doesn’t want to see Chan right now, not in the state he’s in.
‘Sorry, maybe next time’
He ends up sending.
There really is no excuse for him to decline Chan’s offer. It’s not like he’s busy. Even if he wasn’t… doing whatever the hell this is, he still wouldn’t have been busy. It’s not like he has a job. He just graduated last year. He has absolutely nothing going on with his life. And he knows that Chan knows that.
Channie hyung 💕
You sure?
I haven’t seen you in a while
I wanna see how you’re doing
Jeongin shakes his head, his eyes seeming to sting. He blinks away any dry tears that might threaten to come out. He cannot for the life of him let Chan see him like this. He doesn’t respond and maybe that’s enough of an answer for Chan, who can see he’s online and has read his messages.
Channie hyung 💕
Are you at home?
Jeongin’s breath picks up at the question. Chan’s going to come over. He’s going to come over and see the absolute mess of a state Jeongin’s in. He can’t do that.
But then, out of nowhere, Jeongin’s panic stops. Instead, that all too familiar numb sensation washes over him. He doesn’t care if Chan comes over. He’ll just break up with him either way. It’s clear Jeongin’s not a good boyfriend, let alone a good person. Chan won’t want anything to do with him once he sees that. Jeongin slumps into his pillow and leaves Chan’s messages unanswered. He ends up falling asleep again instead.
He jerks awake to the sound of his front door opening. But he doesn’t get up. He feels weighed down, glued onto his bed and pillows. He just tugs his blanket tighter around his shoulders.
He hopes it’s an intruder coming to kill him and put him out of his misery. Is that morbid to think about?
“Jeongin-ah?” He hears from the foyer instead. It’s Chan. Not some intruder but his poor boyfriend. Even as Jeongin hears footsteps approaching, he doesn’t get up. He doesn’t even try to stop Chan from coming in. His eyes are too heavy and he can barely keep them open to be able to do that.
“Innie?” Chan’s voice is low and soft, tinged with concern. He’s standing at his doorway now. Jeongin can’t see him but he can feel his presence. Jeongin pulls his blanket over his head and tries to hide himself. But it’s too late, Chan’s already seen him.
“Hey,” Chan says quietly. Jeongin can hear him stepping over the piles of clothes on the floor as he makes his way over to him. Jeongin can feel him hovering next to the bed, but he doesn’t sit down yet. “It’s been a while, hm?”
Jeongin curls in on himself under the blanket, eyes squeezing shut. Maybe if he makes himself small enough, he can disappear.
“How’re you doing?” Chan continues talking. Jeongin doesn’t respond. Maybe Chan will think he’s sleeping, get the hint and leave. He does the opposite. He sits on the edge of the bed instead. “Not too good, huh?”
Jeongin shakes his head but he doubts Chan can see it from under the blanket.
“Can I see you?” Chan’s oh so patient with him, fingers hovering over the edge of the blanket but not pulling back without Jeongin’s permission. Jeongin shakes his head hard enough for Chan to see it through the blanket. It works. Chan drops his hand back down, shifting on the edge of the bed. Jeongin wants him to leave and stay at the same time.
“I’m gonna pull your blanket back, okay?” Chan’s fingers curl around the edge of the blanket and Jeongin shakes his head desperately, hands shooting up to cover his face when he feels Chan tug the blanket down. Jeongin lets out a pathetic sound he doesn’t even mean to make as he curls in on himself further, hoping Chan can’t see the disgusting state he’s in.
“Hey,” Chan says again, brushing his fingers over Jeongin’s wrist. Jeongin jerks away from his touch. “Baby, it’s okay. You don’t have to hide. Not from me.”
Jeongin shakes his head again.
“I look disgusting,” he chokes out, fingers curling around his face. “You don’t have to be here. You can leave.”
Please leave.
“I don’t want to leave. I want to be here,” Chan’s fingers gently loop around Jeongin’s wrist. He doesn’t pull Jeongin’s hand away, just leaves his fingers there. “I want to be here for you. I want to help you.”
Jeongin shakes his head again.
“No. I’m disgusting. I haven’t showered in a week and I haven’t brushed my teeth in…” when was the last time he brushed his teeth? “In far too long.”
“Jeongin,” Chan coaxes. Jeongin shakes his head and tries to tug his wrist out of Chan’s hold.
“I’m a mess. I smell and look like shit and everything’s a mess and I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“Jeongin,” Chan’s voice grows sterner but Jeongin continues.
“You don’t have to subject yourself to seeing me like this. You don’t have to subject yourself to seeing me at all. You don’t have to—“
Chan cuts him off.
“Jeongin!” He doesn’t yell, doesn’t raise his voice, but the tone in which he speaks is firm. It surprises Jeongin and he flinches, eyes flying open to look at Chan in between his fingers. Chan lets out a huffed breath, fingers tightening around his wrist. Not enough to hurt but enough to tell Jeongin that he’s not leaving. That he’s staying no matter what Jeongin says. “I don’t care if you haven’t showered in a week, I don’t care if you smell bad and I don’t care if you look like a mess. What I care about is your wellbeing. What I care about is making sure you can function properly as a human being before I lose you, you understand?”
Jeongin’s body trembles, his eyes wide as he stares at Chan. There’s a deep worry in Chan’s eyes that pierces right through Jeongin’s heart.
‘Before I lose you’
Chan lets out a soft sigh and lowers his voice again, back to that soft, whispered tone.
“I don’t want you to hide from me when you’re like this,” he lifts a hand and brings it to Jeongin’s head, fingers slowly sliding into his greasy hair. “I know what it feels like to be alone and I don’t want you to feel like that. I don’t want you to feel like there’s no hope left. Not when I’m here, okay?”
Jeongin nods. Only because he doesn’t know what Chan will do if he doesn’t.
“I’m going to help you, alright? We’ll take everything step by step,” Chan ducks his head to catch Jeongin’s eyes, tone soft but firm. “And our first step is feeding you. When did you last eat something proper?”
Jeongin tucks his knees to his chest and takes his wrist back when Chan lets go of him. He shrugs, eyes drifting to the bag of chips lying on the floor.
“Okay, then we’re gonna get you something to eat,” Chan begins to stand but Jeongin shakes his head.
“I don’t want to,” he whispers, voice broken. “I’m nauseous.”
Chan’s lips tug down into a frown and he nods at Jeongin.
“You’re nauseous because you haven’t eaten. I’ll get you something light,” he pulls his phone out of his pocket and begins tapping around on it. “And when was the last time you took your meds?”
Fuck, his meds. Jeongin forgot he had meds. He’s kind of self-sabotaged himself a little by not taking his antidepressants hasn’t he? He’s just been too tired to get out of bed and take them.
His silence is enough of a response for Chan, who looks over his shoulder and nods.
“Okay, I’ll be right back,” he steps over the mess in his room on his way out. Jeongin slumps back under his blanket, hand sliding over his sheets to look for his phone.
Chan returns not even five minutes later.
“You’re running out,” he says as he walks back into the room. Jeongin drags his eyes heavily from his phone to look up at Chan as he makes his way back to the bed. He’s holding a glass of water and a pill bottle, which has at least three pills left in there. He sets the water on Jeongin’s nightstand and twists open the pill bottle. He takes one of the beige colored disks in his palm and holds it out to Jeongin.
“Here baby, sit up.”
With the affectionate name, how can Jeongin not sit up? He pushes himself up into a sitting position and takes the glass of water from Chan’s hand, followed by the pill. When the water hits his throat as he swallows down the pill, he realizes just how parched he really was. He ends up downing the entire glass of water in one go.
“Oh wow,” Chan chuckles, taking the glass of water back from Jeongin, who wipes away the residue of water around his mouth with the back of his hand. “Thirsty, huh?”
Chan takes a seat back on the edge of the bed after setting the empty glass back on the nightstand. His hand finds its way to Jeongin’s thigh above the blanket, his fingers squeezing the meat there.
“You have to hydrate yourself more, okay?”
Jeongin’s head bobs in a nod, his eyes focused on a spot on his bed with a faraway look. The few seconds of silence is deafening and Jeongin doesn’t have it in himself to turn his head to look at Chan, to even flick his eyes to him. He knows the look he’ll find in Chan’s eyes will only make him feel worse. Finally, Chan clears his throat and straightens out his spine, moving to get up with a pat to Jeongin’s thigh.
“I can help you call up your psychiatrist later today to refill your meds,” he says, picking up the empty glass and mostly empty container of pill. “Alright?”
Jeongin nods again, his hand roaming around his bed in search for his phone. When his fingers wrap around the device, he immediately hauls it to his face, eyes once again glued to the brainrotting nonsense playing on his screen. He hears Chan let out a short sigh from beside him.
“Iyen-ah…” he mutters almost disappointingly. Jeongin tries not to think about it. But he’s forced to when Chan reaches a hand out and gently takes Jeongin’s phone from his hand. “I’m gonna take this for a bit, okay? You’ve been on it too much and it won’t help with anything. I’ll give it back to you later.”
Jeongin can’t even protest or argue back for his phone. In fact, he agrees wholeheartedly with Chan. He really has been on it for too long. He bobs his head in another nod, eyes watching as Chan sets his phone face down on his nightstand.
“The food should almost be here,” Chan informs, leaning down to pick up the abandoned bag of chips from the floor. He stacks as many dishes that had been rotting in Jeongin’s room as he can in his arms before stepping out of the room. Jeongin watches his retreating back, that slight feeling of panic returning to his chest as he watches Chan leave—as he watches Chan leave him. But that feeling is quickly gone when Chan returns back to the bedroom, this time empty-handed.
“Let’s go eat out in the kitchen, yeah?” He encourages with a soft smile, holding a hand out towards Jeongin. Jeongin blinks down at it and nods, letting Chan help pull him out of bed by his hand. The world spins under his feet when he finally stands and Jeongin thinks he’s going to fall right back into bed—like a gravitational pull—but Chan is gently steadying him before he can. He speaks lowly and softly to Jeongin as they both navigate out of the bedroom. “And then afterwards, do you wanna try to take a shower?”
Jeongin shrugs. He probably should. He’s probably subjecting his poor boyfriend to his unpleasant odor. But he just doesn’t feel like standing under a stream of water. Chan doesn’t push, only nods in understanding, thumb swiping over the back of Jeongin’s hand.
“That’s okay. We’ll see how you feel after we eat.”
And just in time, the doorbell rings, indicating the food’s arrival. Chan helps Jeongin sit down at the dining table before he goes out to collect the food.
“I bought some soup,” he says when he steps back into the kitchen, delivery bag in hand. He places it on the dining table, after pushing aside some of the junk, and begins taking out containers. He glances up at Jeongin as he does so. “Is that alright with you?”
Jeongin nods.
Chan sits across from him the entire time he attempts to eat. He tells him soft-spoken stories and jokes the entire time, which definitely helps with distracting Jeongin from thinking too much about how the soup pools in his empty stomach.
“Only eat as much as you can, alright?” Chan reaches out to wipe a drip of soup on the table with a napkin. Jeongin briefly wonders how his insanely organized boyfriend must feel sitting in such a chaotic and unorganized house. He knows it’s probably driving him insane. It makes Jeongin admire him even more, for wanting to stay to help him despite having to be uncomfortable.
He stares down at the soup as if it had personally offended his mother, fingers loose around the spoon. His stomach is churning and he really, really does not want to eat. He flicks his eyes up to look for Chan and finds him clearing out old and disgusting takeout containers from the fridge, tossing them into the trash one after the other. Jeongin looks back down at his soup.
Why can’t he do one thing right? Chan wants him to eat but not even that he can do.
Pathetic. The voice spits at him. So useless.
His fingers tremble around the spoon as he clutches it tighter, knuckles growing white. Chan bought this for him. Chan wants him to eat. Chan is expecting him to eat. Yet he doesn’t move, just continues staring down at the darkly colored liquid. He wonders what type of soup this is. He’d probably know if he ate it.
Jeongin’s so focused on death glaring his soup that he doesn’t even notice Chan round the table to slide into the seat next to him. He jumps when he feels Chan brush his fingers over the back of his hand, eyes darting to his face. Chan smiles apologetically for scaring him but doesn’t pull away. Instead he eases Jeongin’s knuckles open and takes the spoon from his sweaty palm.
“We’ll take it slow, yeah?” He mutters softly, dragging the entirely full bowl of soup closer to him so he can dip the spoon into the broth. Jeongin shakes his head, that voice in his head which tells him to not be a burden, to get in the way of anyone, blares. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out so he ends up just shaking his head. Chan’s lips pull into a small smile and he nods in response, challenging Jeongin’s protests.
“Here,” Chan lifts the now full spoon up, free hand cupping under it to catch anything that falls as he brings the spoon to Jeongin’s mouth. Jeongin’s mouth doesn’t open automatically. He goes cross-eyed as he stares down at the spoon. Chan nudges his knuckles of his free hand under Jeongin’s chin. “Open.”
The command is soft spoken and barely a command but Jeongin’s brain, desperate to please, bends at it. He parts his lips open and lets Chan push the spoon into his mouth. The broth of the soup is warm when it hits his tongue and Jeongin almost forgets to swallow. It tastes like seaweed soup except it’s just the broth. Chan smiles encouragingly at him and nods before scooping up another spoonful of soup, this time making sure to get some of the small pieces of seaweed on. He lifts it to Jeongin’s mouth and Jeongin accepts it more easily this time, throat bobbing as he forcefully swallows. His stomach twists.
“There you go,” Chan croons softly, almost as if he’s talking to a kid. “Let’s try a bit more, yeah?”
Suddenly, their situation falls into place in Jeongin’s brain, which had fogged over with the desperate intent to please. He feels embarrassed, to put it lightly, as he registers that Chan is currently hand feeding him soup and talking to him like he’s a kid. Jeongin can’t even bother to keep himself alive and now Chan has shown up treating him like glass. He feels guilty too. Chan could be doing anything else other than sit here next to a not very pleasant smelling Jeongin and hand feed his depressed ass. Is he keeping Chan from enjoying his own day?
When the spoon hovers in front of his mouth, instead of opening it, his lower lip trembles and he feels his eyes begin to water.
Oh and now you’re going to cry too? Great, just great. To make everything worse, huh?
The voice grows louder and louder, muffling his ears as his chest tightens and a sob threatens to bubble out of it.
“Hey,” Chan murmurs softly, lowering the spoon again upon seeing the fresh tears glaze over his eyes. He frowns and tilts his head to the side to try and catch his teary eyes. “Hey, hey, hey. What’s wrong?“
“I’m sorry,” Jeongin’s emotional and mental metaphorical bucket overflows and the apology leaves his mouth in a gasped sob.
Ugh. Gross…
Chan’s eyebrows pinch together and he shakes his head, frown so deep on his face that it’ll give him wrinkle lines. Jeongin will give his pretty, perfect face wrinkles.
“Hey, no…” Chan soothes, spoon clinking against the bowl as he sets it down. “Why sorry?”
Jeongin shakes his head, shoulders trembling with every hitched breath and ugly sob that leaves him. His fingers tangle in the hem of his shirt.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats again, eyes squeezed shut. Before Chan can ask him again, he wills himself to continue. He stumbles over his words, hard to get them out when he can’t quite breathe properly. “You—You shouldn’t…you shouldn’t be here.”
Chan cocks his head to the side. His eyes are so patient when Jeongin’s eyes crack open. He immediately shuts them again, fingers leaving the hem of his shirt so he can hide himself behind them.
“Why not, baby?” Chan asks, the tips of his fingers caressing over his wrist. He shakes his head again.
“You’re supposed to be at home enjoying the weekend not…not here.”
“But I want to enjoy my weekend here. With you,” Chan counters immediately, fingers moving closer to circle around his wrist. He seems to try and tug Jeongin closer to him and Jeongin can easily read his movements. He’s going to pull Jeongin to his chest, hug him tightly, maybe kiss him and tell him everything’s okay like he usually does. Except this time, he cannot do that.
Not when you’re this…disgusting. Miserable. Pathetic.
He shakes his head and jerks away from Chan’s hand, the heels of his palm pressing into his eyes. A sob punches out of his throat, muffled slightly by his hands.
“No,” he whimpers again with another shake of his head.
“Jeongin,” Chan says slowly. His fingers find his thigh and Jeongin flinches at the touch, pressing his hands closer to his face as he sobs into his palm.
“You’re not supposed to see me like this,” he chokes out. Chan’s fingers tighten around his thigh and the touch feels sort of grounding. He sobs again.
“Jeongin, how many times will I have to tell you?” Chan’s voice doesn’t sound disappointed or angry despite the phrase. It just sounds soft and reassuring. “If I don’t love you at your worst then I don’t love you at all, right? And right now, I am loving you. It hurts to see you like this but I want to help you get through it. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, nowhere else I want to be.”
His fingers curl around Jeongin’s wrist and this time, Jeongin doesn’t pull away. His breath hitches on a sob and he doesn’t fight back when Chan gently pulls at his wrist. Once the back of his hand is lowered down to his thigh, Chan weaves his fingers in between Jeongin’s trembling ones and squeezes. His other hand leaves Jeongin’s thigh to hover under his chin, knuckles just shy of touching.
“Okay?” He asks, guiding Jeongin’s other hand from his face so he can cup his jaw, thumb swiping over the tears. Jeongin has no choice but to nod, his eyes still squeezed shut. Chan thumbs at the corner of his eyes and coaxes Jeongin to open them. When he does, his breath hitches at the pure love swimming in Chan’s eyes. Chan really is determined to love him through this slump of his. He raises his eyebrow slightly at Jeongin in question, as if wordlessly repeating his earlier question. Jeongin nods again with an ugly, wet sniffle. His response makes a small and satisfied smile tug on Chan’s face and he nods back, squeezing Jeongin’s hand again before letting go. He reaches into the takeout bag and grabs some napkins from in there, lifting one to Jeongin’s face. Jeongin takes it and uses it to blow his nose, trying to not think too much about how loud of a sound it makes. He wipes at his cheeks with the back of his hand and stares down at the napkin crumpled in his hand, embarrassed by his breakdown.
“Let’s try again,” Chan says, taking the soiled napkin from Jeongin and tossing it to the side before picking the spoon back up. Jeongin automatically opens his mouth when Chan raises the spoon to his lips, letting the soup join the tangle in his stomach.
“There you go,” Chan praises softly, dipping the spoon back into the soup. “Just a bit more, okay?”
Jeongin doesn’t protest, just nods and opens his mouth again. The next time Chan tries to get him another spoonful of soup, however, Jeongin nudges his knuckles into the side of Chan’s thigh to get his attention.
“I don’t want any more,” he whispers with a shake of his head. His voice is all cracked and tiny. He must sound like some kid trying to get out of dinner. He sure feels like that. But Chan doesn’t reprimand him. He smiles and nods.
“Alright, that’s okay,” he says, placing the spoon back down. “We can stop here if you don’t feel good for more.”
Jeongin nods.
“We’ll try to eat some more later,” Chan stands up from the chair and brings the bowl over to the sink but ends up just leaving it on the counter, since the sink is overflowing.
“Did…” Jeongin begins. Chan immediately gives him his attention, turning around to walk back to the table. “Did you eat already?”
Chan’s smile softens and he nods.
“Yeah, don’t worry sweetheart, I already ate before coming here.”
Jeongin nods back. Something about the way Chan called him ‘sweetheart’ makes the knot in his stomach unfurl just a bit.
“Do you want to go see if you can take a shower now?” Chan suggests more than asks. He’s so considerate it genuinely hurts. Jeongin shrugs, looking down at his hand where he’s been picking at his nail beds. He knows he has to, knows he should, but he doesn’t want to. Chan must pick up on that because he steps in to stand next to him again, leaning back against the table. He leans down and takes one of Jeongin’s hand in his own, forcing him to stop picking at his skin. He brushes his thumb over the corner of Jeongin’s own thumb, where Jeongin had picked the skin far enough for blood to prickle at the corner.
“Is there a way I can help you?” He asks, voice low and so soft Jeongin feels like crying all over again. What did he ever do to deserve someone this caring? Someone who loves him no matter what? Jeongin isn’t worthy for this love. Chan is doing his best to help Jeongin yet Jeongin can’t even help himself, can’t even do anything to help Chan help him. What does that make him?
Pathetic. The voice answers. Stubborn. Useless. Undeserving of love, undeserving of anything and everything—
“Hey.”
Chan nudges his ankle with his foot, pulling Jeongin out of that trance. He snaps his head up to stare wide-eyed at Chan. His chest is heaving and his free hand had begun picking at his skin again. When did that happen?
“Don’t listen to that voice,” Chan whispers with a shake of his head, taking Jeongin’s other hand. He holds each of his hands in each of his own, cradling them with a fragile hold. “Listen to me. I’m talking to you right now, not whatever’s in your head.”
Jeongin blinks up at him owlishly. How did he know? Can Chan read minds? Was Jeongin talking out loud this entire time?
Chan smiles at him reassuringly, thumb rubbing back and forth on his knuckles. He lets out a low, rough chuckle.
“I went through everything you’re going through now. Multiple times,” he tells him. Jeongin blinks dumbly again. Chan has a history with depression. He knows this. He should know this. “That voice in your head, right? That really mean and cruel one?”
Jeongin nods slowly and Chan’s smile grows softer.
“Yeah, I was basically best friends with that fucker from how much it pestered me,” Chan rolls his eyes teasingly. He lets go of one of Jeongin’s hands to lift his now free one. He taps the tip of his pointer finger against Jeongin’s forehead gently and slowly. “That voice is going to tell you all sorts of things. And it’ll be hard to not listen to it but I want you to try, okay? I know I might sound selfish right now but I want you to listen to my voice and only my voice, not that little termite in your head.”
Jeongin feels something slide down his cheek. It’s cold.
Chan’s hand slides from where he had been lightly touching his forehead to his cheek, thumb swiping at the stain there. At a tear. Jeongin didn’t even realize he had started crying again.
“Okay?”
With a thick swallow and another stray tear, Jeongin nods, eyebrows pinched and eyes watery as he looks up at Chan from his eyelashes, shoulders slumped forwards. He watches as Chan’s eyes morph into that soft, gooey look. He cups Jeongin’s cheek gently, thumbs swiping back and forth on his cheeks despite there being no more tears.
“Shower?” He asks again. Though this time, Jeongin nods. He feels in a trance the longer Chan looks down at him with that much love. Like he’ll do anything Chan asks of him. Especially as a happy smile pulls on his lips. Especially as he praises Jeongin, as he calls him ‘good’ for agreeing. Jeongin wants to be good for him all the time.
“What do you want to do? You can go ahead and take as long as a shower you need and I’ll be right out here. Or I can keep you company in there. Either outside or inside the shower. Whatever you’re the most comfortable with,” Chan suggests. Jeongin appreciates the options. It makes it easier for him to choose something. Well, not really. Instead of choosing an option like Chan is expecting of him, he just dumbly nods.
Geez…
Chan chuckles, eyes creasing at the corners. He rubs his thumb across Jeongin’s cheek again.
“Yes what? You have to tell me which one you want, not just nod,” he teases lightheartedly, thumb and pointer finger lightly pinching Jeongin’s cheek. Jeongin opens his mouth and wills words to come out but his throat feels scratchy, voice long gone. He feels like he’s scratching his nails down a chalkboard as he tries to force his voice to come out. But he doesn’t have to. Chan puts his hand up, letting go of Jeongin’s other hand, and lifts three fingers. He points to his index finger.
“I leave you alone while you shower and wait for you out here,” he says. He points to his middle finger.
“I sit with you in the bathroom, outside of the shower.”
He points at the last finger.
“I join you inside the shower.”
He holds the three fingers closer for Jeongin.
“Which one do you want?”
Jeongin thinks about it for a moment. He gravitates towards the first option but he’s afraid of what he’ll sink into if left alone for too long. He lifts one hand from his lap to brush his fingers around Chan’s index finger. He slowly closes his own fingers around Chan’s.
“Can—“ he begins, words choked out. Chan nods encouragingly at him to continue, a smile that brings out his dimples crossing over his face. “Can you check on me? Every…every ten minutes?”
Chan listens patiently as Jeongin stutters out his question, still struggling to use his voice after not having used it for so long. Once he finishes, Chan’s smile seems to get wider, seems to brighten. He nods and twists his hand so he can wrap his fingers around Jeongin’s.
“Of course.”
Chan walks with him to the bathroom, their fingers still clutching each other’s, shortly afterwards. When they’re standing in the middle of the bathroom, Chan squeezes Jeongin’s hand reassuringly.
“All good?” He asks. Jeongin nods. “Okay, I’ll be back in ten minutes then.”
Jeongin nods again and squeezes his fingers one last time as Chan exits the bathroom, the door softly shutting behind him. Jeongin stands there staring at the door for a good few seconds before turning around. He stares at the shower curtains for another good few minutes. And then he walks over to the toilet and sits down on its closed lid. Instead of getting into the shower like he was supposed to, like Chan had been trusting him to do, he just sits there. He can hear Chan move around the apartment outside of the bathroom as he does so.
As he sits there, shoulders slouched and fingers curled into his sweatpants, he stares blankly at the opposite wall. He doesn’t know how long he does that for. All he knows is that he doesn’t even register the soft knock at the door or Chan’s voice calling out to him. He only snaps back into reality when the door creaks open.
As if caught in the act, Jeongin jumps and shoots his head up to stare at Chan like a deer in headlights when he walks in.
“Jeongin-ah…” Chan sighs. He doesn’t sound disappointed but that cruel voice in Jeongin’s head convinces him he does. “What happened?”
“I’m sorry,” Jeongin squeaks meekly. Chan’s face softens and he shakes his head. He steps further into the bathroom and stands beside Jeongin.
“Don’t apologize,” he tells him, hands lowering to wrap around his elbows. Gently, Chan guides him to stand. “It’s okay, I understand it can be hard to do it yourself. I’ll turn the water on for you, okay?”
Jeongin nods and stands there rooted in place as he watches Chan move to the shower. He tugs back the curtain and leans over to turn the water on. The sound of it feels comforting to Jeongin. Chan takes a few seconds to get the temperature of the water just right before he pulls away again.
“There you go,” he smiles. He takes Jeongin’s hand momentarily to squeeze it as he passes by him to leave again. “I’ll be back in ten minutes, okay?”
Jeongin nods but doesn’t watch as Chan walks out, only hears the door close behind him. After stalling for a bit, Jeongin finally ends up being able to peel his clothes off. The sensation of stepping under the shower spray for the first time in what seems like eons feels weird but…good. The temperature is perfect—not too cold and not too hot—on his skin and he melts into it. He stands under the spray, water dripping down his body for the next ten minutes. He only realizes it’s already been ten minutes when the door opens again. He jumps in surprise. He can’t see Chan due to the curtain but he knows he’s still standing at the doorway.
“Innie,” Chan calls out. “Everything alright?”
Jeongin hums in affirmation but it’s mostly a lie. He hasn’t done anything shower related yet despite being in here for ten minutes. He’s been too busy trying to vertically drown himself.
“Do you need some help with anything?” Chan asks. Jeongin shakes his head but then mutters a small no when he remembers Chan can’t see him. “Okay.”
Chan stands there for a while and Jeongin thinks he must’ve left before he speaks again. “Have you applied your shampoo yet?”
Busted.
“No…” Jeongin mutters.
“Then let’s start with that, okay? I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
And just like that, Chan leaves again. This time, Jeongin does actually move. He doesn’t want to make Chan more disappointed than he already is so he grabs his shampoo bottle. He does it slowly but eventually, right as the bathroom door opens again, Jeongin finishes rinsing out his hair.
“How’re you doing?” Chan asks. Jeongin mutters back a ‘good’ as he watches the bubbles from the shampoo wash down the drain. “You finish with the shampoo yet?”
“Yeah,” Jeongin responds, still distracted by the running water in the drain.
“Really?” Chan beams. Jeongin can’t see him but he knows he has a wide smile on his face. It makes Jeongin’s chest warm ever so slightly. He mutters back another yes. “That’s very good, Innie! Good job, baby.”
Good job. It echoes in his mind. He did a good job. He’s good. Chan thinks he’s good. Chan thinks he did a good job.
“Let’s move onto conditioner now, okay?” Chan tells him. “Keep it up, I’ll be back in ten.”
Jeongin works faster this time. He wants to keep being good. He wants to hear Chan call him that again. Needs to hear Chan call him that again. By the time Chan comes back, Jeongin had already finished rubbing in the conditioner and was now waiting for it to set.
“Conditioner all done?” Chan calls out. Jeongin hums in affirmation and hears Chan let out a happy sound, somewhere between a squeak and a hum. He’s making Chan happy by doing this.. “Ah, good job, baby! You’re doing so good! Almost done now, okay? When I come back next I’ll help you get out so make sure to wash yourself thoroughly, okay?”
Jeongin feels lighter, like he can do anything and everything. He mumbles back an okay and immediately gets to work once the door closes again. He’s just rinsing off the soapy bubbles all over his body when the door opens.
“Alright,” Chan declares. Jeongin hears him grab a towel off the hook. “Are you all done now? If not then I’ll give you another ten minutes.”
Jeongin quickly rubs off the soap and thinks over his shower to make sure he got everything before he turns the water off. He pulls back the shower curtain a little less dreadfully than he had an hour ago. Geez… Jeongin took a whole hour to take a shower.
Chan’s standing right outside the shower when Jeongin finally opens the curtain. He’s holding out a towel for him, a wide and soft smile spread on his face and creasing his eyes. When Jeongin steps out of the shower, wet hair dripping over his face and takes a step closer to Chan, Chan immediately wraps the towel around him. He tucks the towel around Jeongin’s shoulders, despite the bottom half of his body not being covered, and leans in. Jeongin blinks at him in confusion, shoulders tensing as Chan presses his nose into his neck. He takes a long inhale before pulling back, his earlier smile widening into a grin at the proof that Jeongin did indeed take a proper shower.
“Good job, Jeongin-ah,” He says, brushing back his wet hair and stroking his cheek. “I know that must’ve been hard but you did it, yeah?”
Jeongin nods, the praise going straight to his heart. He leans his cheek into Chan’s hand.
“And how do you feel now that you’ve taken your shower?”
“Better,” Jeongin mutters. Because he does. He does feel a bit better. He doesn’t feel sticky, like his skin is crawling. He doesn’t feel like he rolled around in a trash dump. And his clothes—the ones he’d been wearing for a full straight week—don’t feel suffocating. He feels like he can breathe a bit better. He takes a deep breath as if to test that theory, eyes fluttered shut, and finds that he really can breathe better. And the best part about having taken a shower, about having cleaned himself, is that Chan can hug him now. And he does. Jeongin’s taken by surprise when he does.
A low grunt leaves him as he’s suddenly pulled forwards, Chan’s arms winding tightly around his shoulders and forehead pressing into his neck for a deep embrace. Jeongin freezes up in it, fingers curling tighter around the towel in front of his chest and eyes widening at the squeeze of the hug. Chan hugs him tightly, like he’s been waiting all night to do so. And he probably has.
“I’m so proud of you, Iyen-ah,” Chan mutters, one hand sliding to cup the back of his neck and nose dragging alongside the slope of Jeongin’s shoulder. Chan’s voice is heavy with emotion, with relief and warmth. Jeongin melts easily into his arms, chin hooking over his shoulder as he becomes putty in his hyung’s arms. Chan’s words strike something in him, makes him feel like his heart is being squeezed. An involuntary whimper leaves him without his permission, muffled by Chan’s shirt as he presses his nose into Chan’s shoulder. He’s gonna cry again, he can feel it. Does he even have tears left in him to cry?
He surprisingly does. He barely even registers it when he does begin crying. The only thing he registers are his knees buckling and Chan’s hold growing tighter on him. One of Chan’s arms wind around his waist to keep him up, his other hand sliding into Jeongin’s wet hair to cup the back of his head. He cradles Jeongin to his shoulder tightly.
“Shh,” Chan soothes, thumb rubbing back and forth on Jeongin’s scalp. Chan’s forehead is pressed to his temple, his breath fanning over Jeongin’s jaw. “It’s okay now, baby. I’ve got you.”
Jeongin’s chest feels so tight, so constricting, his throat itchy. For the first time that night, he feels like he has control over his own body. For the first time that night, he realizes he’s not just going along with whatever his body does but is the one controlling it. His hands uncurl from the towel and reach out to grasp at Chan’s shirt. The towel slips off his shoulders but he doesn’t care. He’s being hugged, being held, for the first time in almost two weeks. The chill in his body is the least thing he’s worried about. He clings tighter onto Chan and lets his sobs overtake him. He didn’t even realize he was sobbing. He had been this entire time, muffled into Chan’s shoulders. But he can feel it now. He has control over his own body now.
Chan holds him like that for at least five minutes, fingers scratching lightly at his scalp as he rocks them both side to side. He doesn’t say anything, just holds Jeongin tightly to his chest. He only lets go of him once Jeongin’s cries begin to subside and once Jeongin is able to hold himself up on shaky legs.
“Okay?” Chan asks as he cups Jeongin’s face in both hands, thumbs swiping away at his tears. Jeongin sniffles and nods.
“Yeah,” he says hoarsely. He earns a small smile from Chan and his heart is being squeezed all over again when Chan leans in and places a featherlight kiss to his forehead. A pathetic whimper leaves him at the touch.
“I’d kiss you better right now,” Chan says when he pulls away, hand wiping away the stubborn tears that cling to Jeongin’s cheeks. He has a soft, almost teasing smile on his lips as he ducks his head to catch Jeongin’s eyes. “But I’m not sure when the last time you brushed your teeth was and I honestly don’t want to subject myself to that.”
It pulls a laugh out of Jeongin and he surprises himself with the sound. A giggle bounces off the bathroom walls, light and bubbly in his chest. He brings a hand up to his mouth as the sound escapes him.
God, it’s been a while since he’s heard himself laugh.
Chan’s face almost splits in half at the sound, his smile almost taking up his entire face. He doesn’t say anything about it though. Instead, he pulls away to grab another towel off the rack, using it to wrap around his shoulders again.
“Do you want to go ahead and do that right now?” Chan asks, hands careful as they drag the towel across Jeongin’s still damp skin. Afterwards, he tugs the towel tight around Jeongin’s shoulders and grabs another one to dry his hair for him. Jeongin doesn’t respond, eyes darted down to the floor. He hears Chan let out a small sigh. Not a disappointed one but just a restless one. Jeongin feels his chest twinge with guilt again. His mouth ticks down into a deep frown and he opens it to mutter an apology but Chan cuts him off before he can. “I’ll help you, yeah? You won’t have to move a muscle, baby, I promise.”
Jeongin’s mouth closes in a pout, chin tucking down into his chest. Chan lets out another sigh, lighter this time, and ruffles Jeongin’s hair with the towel.
“Alright, come on,” He chuckles and slings his arm around Jeongin’s shoulders to tug him towards the sink. He lets Jeongin lean against his side, arm unwrapping from around him to grab Jeongin’s toothbrush and toothpaste. He speaks lowly and softly to Jeongin as he squeezes toothpaste onto his toothbrush and as he wets the bristles.
“Here, baby, open,” he mutters, one hand cupping under Jeongin’s chin and the other holding the toothbrush. Jeongin opens easily, jaw dropping and ready for Chan as the elder begins to gingerly brush his teeth. He continues talking softly to him throughout the whole process and Jeongin has never felt more loved. When Chan finishes, he announces it with a chirped ‘done!’ and a squeeze to Jeongin’s chin before stepping to the side to allow Jeongin to rinse out his mouth. He hovers beside him the entire time, a hand brushing over his lower back—not exactly touching but close enough that Jeongin can feel the warmth of his fingers through the towel.
“There you go,” Chan says, low and hushed after Jeongin wipes his mouth off with a hand towel, the longer towel around his shoulders almost slipping once he stops holding it. Chan grabs the ends of it and tugs them tighter around his shoulders, thumbs brushing over Jeongin’s collarbones as he does so.
“All good?” He asks, head tilting to the side and smile soft on his face. Jeongin nods and finds himself tilting forwards, closer to Chan as if seeking him out. Chan welcomes him into his arms easily, letting Jeongin tuck himself against his chest like he belongs there. He really does, in more ways than one.
Chan’s hands rub up and down Jeongin’s spine as he holds him close, lips pressed to his temple.
“Can I give you a proper kiss now?” He asks, mouth moving against his hair as he speaks. Jeongin lets out a small whimper into his chest, hesitant to let Chan kiss him, but eventually pulls his head up to allow Chan access to his mouth.
It’s not that he doesn’t want to kiss Chan—he wants to so badly it hurts him—but that he’s worried he’ll mess something up. He’s worried brushing his teeth didn’t do enough to rid his mouth of tasting or smelling bad. He’s worried that in the two weeks he’s gone without kissing anyone, he’s suddenly become a terrible kisser. He’s never once been a terrible kisser, according to Chan and his previous partners, but maybe all this time away from ‘practicing’ it made him terrible. Plus, his lips are probably as chapped as sandpaper. He doesn’t know if Chan would want to kiss something like that. Maybe he should say no and tell Chan to ask again in a few days. Or should he be selfish and indulge himself in a short kiss? It’s not like they’ll be making out or anything, right? Jeongin’s sure that—
“Baby,” Chan whispers, breath hot against Jeongin’s lips.
When did he get this close?
He has one arm still wrapped around his waist and one hand now cradling Jeongin’s jaw. He has his head tilted down towards Jeongin’s, their lips only a few inches apart. Jeongin almost goes cross-eyed trying to make eye contact with him.
“Can I kiss you?” He asks again, probably having picked up on Jeongin’s hesitation.
It’s just a kiss. He tells himself. Just a short kiss. Maybe it’ll do you better.
He nods, fingers curling into the front of Chan’s shirt and the edges of the towel which he still clutches to his chest, but he doesn’t move. Neither does Chan.
Does he not want to kiss him anymore? Has he changed his mind? Did Jeongin do something to make him change his mind?
“Jeongin,” Chan says again in a low whisper, thumb swiping over Jeongin’s cheek. Jeongin blinks rapidly to focus his eyes again, almost going cross-eyed once more to try and look up at Chan. Chan stays where he is. He doesn’t put more distance between them but doesn’t close it either. He just remains a few inches away from Jeongin’s lips. “Kiss me.”
At the request, Jeongin finally moves. Chan wants Jeongin to make the first move now. Jeongin understands why. Chan doesn’t want to accidentally do something Jeongin doesn’t truly want to do. If Jeongin doesn’t want to kiss Chan, then he’ll pull away here. If he does, then he’ll lean in and initiate the kiss. He does exactly that.
Jeongin doesn’t hesitate to lean in and press his chapped and dry lips cautiously to Chan’s moisturized own, his eyes squeezing shut. He feels like they’re having their first kiss all over again. Except their first kiss was much better than this.
Chan doesn’t seem to mind though. He leans into the kiss softly, thumb caressing Jeongin’s cheek reverently as he kisses him like he loves him. He does love him.
Chan’s also the one to pull away, doing so with a smile and a crease to his eyes. Jeongin finds a smile beginning to play on his own lips. Chan, seemingly unable to hold himself back, leans back in and presses a quick chaste peck to Jeongin’s mouth before fully pulling himself back, an arm wrapping around Jeongin’s shoulders and pulling him into his side.
“Let’s go get you some clothes,” he says, dipping his head to nuzzle into Jeongin’s hair and leave a featherlight kiss to the crown of his head. He walks the two out of the bathroom, Jeongin leaning into him the entire time. A stubborn little smile is fixed on Jeongin’s face as they walk, probably the first time in a while that Jeongin’s properly smiled—not to a funny meme on his phone or to a corny one-liner in the drama he’s watching but to something real. God how he’s missed this. He’s missed being able to just smile, to laugh like he’s the only person in the room. He’s missed Chan. He’s missed the constant love and affection he’s always getting showered in, the love and affection he constantly showers Chan with. He’s missed being loved. He never once stopped being loved during this whole depressive slump of his but he simply forgot he was. There was no one around to remind him of the love people hold for him and there was no one around to display that love. But now there is. Now Chan is back, holding him in his arms as if to never let go. Jeongin really hopes he never does.
Jeongin’s so deep in his own happy thoughts that he doesn’t even register them walking through the hallway and to his bedroom. He only snaps back to reality when Chan nudges the door open and the room doesn’t smell stale anymore. It smells sweet, like flowers and cherry blossoms. Like the air freshener Jeongin never uses. The smell isn’t the only thing that’s different about his room, though. Upon entering, Jeongin immediately realizes that there’s no mountain of dirty clothes blocking the door. In fact, there’s no mountain of dirty clothes anywhere in his room.
He looks around in confusion, his eyes wide. He’s stopped at the door, frozen as he takes in the sight of his bedroom restored back to its clean state. He feels like he hasn’t seen the floor of his bedroom empty like this in months. No more wrappers, no clothes, no mess. He looks over at his bed and finds himself still just as surprised. The sheets on his bed and pillows are different. Not only that but his bed is neatly made, the covers flattened across the surface. His pillows are neatly stacked at the headboard, his little fox plushie he hasn’t seen in a while resting in between them. Jeongin had been wondering where Mr. Fox had gone. The poor thing was probably drowning in the sea of dirty clothes.
Next, he looks over at his desk in the corner. It’s still a mess, books and random clutter sprawled over the surface. But at least there’s no more old wrappers or cans of energy drinks. Plus, the chair is also empty. Jeongin hasn’t seen his chair empty and not towered with clothes in forever. He looks around his clean and organized room in shock. Did he get graced by a cleaning fairy while he was in the shower or something?
A cleaning fairy…
His head snaps to Chan, who’s still standing next to him, a hand at the small of his back. Chan’s smile is wide, eyes full of love.
“Did…did you do this?” Jeongin asks, voice back to its shaky tone. Even as he says it, he realizes how dumb it must sound. Of course Chan did this. Who else would’ve? The cleaning fairy? Those don’t exist.
“Mhm,” Chan nods gleefully, head bobbing with it. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you being in a room so cluttered and messy like it was before, so I cleaned it. I didn’t touch anything, just picked up the wrappers and clothes and changed your sheets and made your bed. The clothes are all in the wash right now and the wrappers are…well, in the trash. I hope that’s alright with you?”
His eyebrows pinch in concern, as if he’s worried he might’ve done something Jeongin wouldn’t have liked. It’s quite the opposite.
“Of course it’s alright with me,” Jeongin almost screeches, shocked that Chan would ever think Jeongin wouldn’t like him cleaning his room. “You really didn’t have to do that.”
Chan shakes his head and runs his hand up and down Jeongin’s spine through the towel. His head is cocked to the side, eyes closed with the smile that graces his face.
“Of course I did,” he says, reaching out with his other hand to push back Jeongin’s hair. “You know I’d do anything for you. And you also know that I can’t stand a messy room. How am I supposed to spend the night with you if I’m being forced to sleep in a landslide.”
Jeongin’s eyes widen, his heartbeat skipping a beat.
“Spend the night?” He echoes, both confused and surprised. He should probably thank Chan, should probably think about the fact that Chan said he’d do anything for him. But instead, he’s dwelling on the fact Chan just said he’ll be spending the night.
“If that’s alright with you, that is,” Chan adds softly, carding his fingers through Jeongin’s hair. Jeongin couldn’t be more alright with anything else. He’s just surprised Chan would want to do that. Then again, Chan would do anything for him.
Jeongin doesn’t respond, choosing to lunge himself at Chan and wrap his arms tightly around his middle instead. Chan lets out a surprised giggle but doesn’t hesitate from hugging him back, arms tight around his shoulders.
“I’ll take that as a yes?” He laughs into Jeongin’s hair. Jeongin nods into his chest, fingers clutched tightly at the back of Chan’s shirt as if he’d disappear in any second.
“Thank you,” Jeongin mumbles, loud enough for Chan to hear him. He can already feel his throat begin to clog up but he refuses to get emotional again. His feelings are wack today but he’s cried enough times.
“You don’t have to thank me, baby,” Chan presses kiss after kiss to the top of Jeongin’s head, his temple, and his forehead, arms only tightening around him. “Like I said, I’d do anything for you.”
He punctuates his words with a firm kiss to Jeongin’s cheek before pulling away.
“Let’s get you some clothes now.”
He walks Jeongin to his dresser, which is easy to do now without clothes strewn all over the place, and rummages through a few of his drawers. Jeongin stands next to him the entire time, fingers curled around the front of the towel. There aren’t that many options in the drawers, considering all the clothes are in the wash, so Chan works with what he can. He fishes out a pair of boxers and old basketball shorts for him. While looking for a shirt or hoodie for him, Chan comes across a familiar Australian swimming team hoodie. The swimming team Chan used to be in back in high school when he lived in Australia.
“Is this mine?” He laughs, holding the hoodie up to examine the front. The logo is faded but distinctly there. Jeongin feels his cheeks heat up, a bashful expression crossing his face as Chan looks over at him with a teasing smirk. “I was wondering where this went, you little thief.”
A sheepish smile tugs on Jeongin’s face and he reaches out to take the hoodie from Chan. The fabric is soft and worn out, comforting against his skin. He hugs it to his chest. It no longer smells like Chan due to how many times Jeongin’s washed it but the sentiment’s still there.
“I like it,” he confesses, cheeks rosy and chin dipped down shyly. He can feel Chan’s warm smile without even having to look up at him. He reaches out and swipes his thumb over the blush high on Jeongin’s cheeks, touch lingering.
“Then you can keep it,” he smiles, hand lowering back down to his side.
“I was already going to,” Jeongin mumbles cheekily before removing the towel from around his shoulders, dropping it on top of the dresser to tug on his clothes. He feels a thousand times better with the hoodie pulled on, the fabric soft on his skin. The fabric of his boxers and shorts are also worn out and soft, cotton-like on his skin. When he looks up at Chan, half wanting his approval and praise for putting on his clothes and half wanting to know what to do next, he finds himself staring up at the warmest, fondest eyes ever. He starts blushing all over again. When Chan catches the pink climbing high on his cheeks, he chuckles and reaches out to ruffle his hair. Then he leans in and drops a butterfly kiss to the tip of his nose.
“Cutie,” he grins softly, fingers carding through Jeongin’s still damp hair. Jeongin only blushes impossibly harder at the compliment, face burying in his hands. Chan lets out a squeaky giggle and presses a kiss to his temple before finally pulling away.
“Do you wanna go try and eat something else now?” He asks, hand pressing steadily at the small of Jeongin’s back. “I can order some fruits if you feel up to it.”
Some fruits would be nice, Jeongin thinks to himself, his stomach already beginning to grumble. It’d be something easy and light for him to eat. He nods to Chan and lets him lead them out of the bedroom and back down to the kitchen.
The cleaning fairy seemed to have made a stop at the kitchen as well. All the dirty dishes piled in the sink are gone, the dinner table is no longer littered with random shit, and Jeongin can only assume the fridge is cleaned out too. He looks over at Chan in surprise, who smiles warmly up at him at again. Jeongin can’t help but give him a smile back, fingers squeezing around Chan’s hand in a quiet word of thanks.
“What do you feel like eating? I could just order some fruits you like or I could get a smoothie or a smoothie bowl or an açaí bowl,” he suggests, walking Jeongin to one of the empty chairs at the dining table. “Whatever you’d like.”
Jeongin asks him for a smoothie bowl from one of those places he likes and in an instant, Chan orders it for him, along with a handful of frozen meal-prepped meals that will last him for at least a few days. Afterwards, he sets his phone down and asks Jeongin where he’s put his own.
“Can I use your phone, baby?” He asks, fingers lightly brushing through Jeongin’s hair. Jeongin nods and tells him where his phone most likely is without further questioning. He doesn’t know why Chan wants to use his phone or for what he needs it for but he doesn’t have anything to hide. He knows Chan probably doesn’t want to look through his phone out of ill intent. He probably just needs to see something.
While Chan leaves to go find Jeongin’s phone, Jeongin sits at the dining table quietly, nails picking at his cuticles. It’s suddenly far too quiet in the room and his thoughts are suddenly far too loud. Every sensation feels enhanced all of a sudden. The rapid pace in which his knee bounces under the table, the way his hair falls over his eyes as it air dries, and the slow churning in his stomach. He barely thinks before reaching out and grabbing Chan’s phone off the table. A picture of him hugging Berry from one of their vacations to Australia stares back at him. He remembers this day like it was just yesterday. He remembers the face-splitting smile on Chan’s face as he snapped the picture, remembers the way Berry had licked at his cheek just seconds after the picture had been taken.
This instance had been the second time Jeongin met Berry, meaning the senile dog was already far acquainted with him. She had been ecstatic when Jeongin first walked into Chan’s childhood home. She’d even greeted him before Chan, tail wagging at a furious pace. The memory brings a smile to Jeongin’s face. He wonders how Berry is doing now, how the rest of Chan’s family is.
He doesn’t get a chance to type in Chan’s password and unlock his phone—the password being the day Chan had asked Jeongin to be his boyfriend—before Chan is coming back. Jeongin drops the phone back onto the table to appear as if he hadn’t been staring at it. Chan doesn’t seem to notice. If he does, then he doesn’t mention it. He takes a seat across from Jeongin at the table, Jeongin’s phone in his hand.
“I’m going to refill your meds, okay?” He says, glancing up at Jeongin before beginning to tap away at his phone. Jeongin nods. “We can go pick it up at the pharmacy together when it’s ready.”
Jeongin nods again and tugs at a loose string of his hoodie—or well, Chan’s hoodie.
“Do you know if you have a session with your therapist coming up soon?”
Jeongin looks up at Chan at the question and shakes his head after some thought. His next session is in two weeks. He doesn’t know what he was doing choosing to move to monthly.
“That’s okay,” Chan smiles, looking back down at Jeongin’s phone. “I can text or call her and schedule one sooner. Do you want me to do it or can you?”
Jeongin shakes his head.
Can he do it? Of course he can, he just has to shoot his therapist a text asking to move their session closer. But does he want to do it? No. He really doesn’t.
“Can you do it please?” He asks quietly, fingers picking at a loose thread of his shorts. Chan nods and smiles reassuringly at him before standing up from his seat. The moment he does so, the doorbell rings, signaling the arrival of their delivery. Chan quickly gathers everything, setting Jeongin’s smoothie bowl and a spoon in front of him, before moving away from the dining room to make the call. He goes off further down the hallway, probably so Jeongin doesn’t overhear him and get stressed, but Jeongin can still make out a few words. He tries to not focus on the conversation though and instead fixes his attention on the smoothie bowl in front of him.
When Chan returns, he sets Jeongin’s phone down on the table and begins to put away the groceries he had ordered with the smoothie bowl.
“The soonest your therapist said she had is next Monday at 5,” he tells him. Jeongin makes an affirmative sound, somewhere between a hum and a grunt. “I can drive you there and back, okay?”
“Okay,” Jeongin murmurs into his spoon.
Afterwards, they go about the rest of the afternoon slowly. Chan lets him pick what to do after he finishes his smoothie bowl (he was only able to eat half of it but Chan ate the rest for him) and Jeongin chooses to watch a movie. So now they’re curled up on the couch watching a marathon of Ghibli films while cuddling. Chan keeps drawing little patterns on Jeongin’s back, keeps nuzzling into his hair and keeps dropping kisses onto his head and Jeongin begins to remember just how much he’d missed Chan. He wishes they could stay here like this forever. But deep down, he knows they can’t. Chan has to go to work and Jeongin has to… find something to do with his life. He should probably get a job and put his college degree to use. But not right now. Right now, he’s content to stay curled up at Chan’s side watching movies. He can take things slowly. ‘Baby steps’ Chan had told him.
And with that in mind, along with Chan’s soothing touch and comforting warmth at his side, Jeongin finds his eyes drooping. For the first time in nearly a week, Jeongin falls asleep happy and with a smile on his face.
For the first time in a really long time, Jeongin doesn’t dread having to wake up.