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Jisung doesn't know how to explain the ache in his chest.
It didn't spawn out of nowhere, no. If he bothered to look closer at it, it was always there. Hiding. Waiting for the right time to crawl out and hug him tightly in it's embrace. Suffocate him, even.
It was his fault for not noticing it sooner though, thinking too brightly that everything was fine with him.
Now, he had to explain to the group why his mood suddenly dropped. Why he couldn't speak properly without feeling like a rock was in his throat. Why his thoughts went a mile ahead of him than he could possibly reach in due time.
Why he was, to put it simply, sad, from out of the blue. He wishes he had the answer too.
It's not contagious, of course, but it's noticeable. With the way everyone else quietened around him.
For them, it might seem like a thoughtful gesture, allowing him to breathe. To catalogue his thoughts without any pressure.
But how does he explain that he hates that even more? That, with the quietness, comes the expectations. The questions. The curiosity. The dissection on what went wrong, on what caused it in the first place. The spotlight blinds him, the shadows acting far nicer to him instead, far kinder to his hideous side than peoples gazes.
Sometimes, he writes his thoughts into songs. Not only for the content aspect, but more so for the grounding one. It feels right for him, that his problem is useful in one way or another. That he's not completely rendered useless.
And that makes him feel better in a twisted way, makes his mood better. He doesn't know if it's healthy. Doesn't know if his therapist would agree to his methods. In moments like these, he just doesn't know.
He just wants to be in his bed, far away from reality and into a peaceful one instead. Where even he can't follow himself into.
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Sometimes, it's hard for Jisung to trust himself, but Minho makes it easier.
Whenever his thoughts get too loud, he falls into Minho, whatever the other wants to mould him into. The trust is exhilarating, a rush like no other. It makes him want to fall and fall and fall and keep on falling into those soft hands he loves so much. Trusting that the other knows what to do with him when he can't do anything about himself.
"Go tidy up. I have to clear up something, then I'll be with you."
They were finally back from shooting a music video. It was some time after midnight, and the exhaustion of the day was settling into their bones.
Their manager had dropped them off, going to drop Chan and Jeongin next. Jisung pretended to not notice the concerning glances they sent his way during the ride, focusing on the streets blurring into a mass of colour instead.
But it was all slowly catching up to him.
He feels broken, but keeps moving nonetheless. Stripping his clothes and taking a hot shower. Which, infact, does help him, his tense muscles relaxing by the second. The rose-scented shampoo, and the repeated actions of pouring and scrubbing blanking his mind out for a brief moment.
Or maybe it was the stream of water that kept him busy. Because when he turned the shower off, the silence opened up a spot for everything to barrel into him again.
It honestly felt like he was disassociating, feeling numb to everything and nothing at the same time. The lights buzzing faintly, the water going down the drain, his own senses making no sense to him anymore. He was floating away and nothing was pulling him back down.
For a moment, Jisung just stared at himself in the fogged up mirror. Maybe a good night's sleep would help.
Truthfully, he wanted to fall straight into bed, but Minho caught him before he could do so.
"No wet hair in the bed Jagi, you know the rules." He presses a kiss into Jisungs temple, leaning in front of him from where Jisung sat on the bed, legs caging him in. From up close, Jisung could smell his leftover cologne mixed with his sweat and hairspray, something that felt intoxicatingly comforting. The soft rustle of the towel against his hair soothed him further.
Jisung feels so loved.
Minho was still in his outdoor clothes. He didn't immediately change out of them like he usually did. Doing something in the kitchen instead, while Jisung was in the bathroom.
He mumbles a "You hungry?" into Jisungs partially-dry hair, taking a big sniff from it. Which causes Jisung to crack a smile, huffing at his antics. Sometimes, Minho really acted like his brothers, though Soonie might disagree with his opinion.
Jisung wordlessly shakes his head. It doesn't seem like he can stomach anything properly tonight, nor is he actually feeling hungry for anything either. He just wants to sleep and cuddle Minho and forget about the world altogether.
"Mmm, I'm going to grab a bite before sleeping." Minho says. "You hop into bed, though."
He finally let's go from fondling Jisung, lightly slapping his butt as he crawls further into the warm sheets.
Their bedside lamp was illuminating the room in a warm sweet glow, and Jisung noticed how beautiful Minho looked in the light. He, who was leaning on the bed with one knee in, focusing on adjusting the blankets onto Jisung however he saw fit.
Moving the hair falling into his eyes, Minho presses a light kiss on his forehead. Jisung's eyes flutter shut. Sleep was slowly creeping in, but he knows he won't fully fall asleep until the other gets into bed with him.
Jisung feels so loved.
"Hyung," he clears his parched throat, tiredly looking up from where his face was buried under the blanket. "Come back quickly," he mutters, the first words he said since he stepped into the apartment, almost tethering off into a soft whine.
Jisung could feel the way Minho's lip curl up into a smile from where they were pressing on his face. On a regular day, Jisung would've hauled the other into bed, regardless of the rule about his outdoor clothes being in bed or not, reciprocating the affection with kisses of his own all over his face.
On a regular day, Jisung would be acting like a normal person. Not as someone who needs help operating in basic human functions. Distantly, he's sure that that's what his therapist would definitely not approve on.
"Little baby, pretty baby." Minho softly sighs, shifting to lean back, his hand gently petting Jisungs hair with a certain look in his eyes. "My needy baby. Hyung'll be back in a sec."
The confirmation eased something within Jisung, causing him to lazily nod as a yawn escaped his lips. He blinks the tears away just in time to see Minho smile fondly at him, finally moving away, and heading out to get ready for bed.
The distance doesn't deter Jisung anymore. Not only because he knows the other is still with him, but also because of the little signs of life he can hear from underneath the covers.
The low humming of a song, the light clanking of dishes. The soft meowing of the cats and the refilling of their bowls. Little quips Minho makes when shuffling around their apartment. A breath of life for him.
Jisung belatedly noticed how the older had kept the door deliberately open. One of the kitties curiously ventured in, clambering into the bed next to him.
"Hi Dori-yah." The cat meows at his name being called, rubbing his wet nose into Jisungs outstretched hand.
He sniffs around the bed for a few seconds, before curling around his feet. Jisung was able to poke his toes into the baby from under the blanket, chuckling, when the cat went into frenzy mode, pupils blown wide.
From their bedside table, his phone pinged. Messages from the other members, some sending memes, some sending heartfelt concern and gratitude. Some promising a drink or two. Some telling him it's okay to take a break.
A text from his Eomma asking if he'd tried the homemade kimchi she made for them. One from his brother on whether he saw who won the latest FIFA match.
Jisung is so loved. He doesn't feel alone in this scary world anymore.
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