Work Text:
It's the crushing emptiness that gets to him, most nights.
Yushi spent the whole day out with his relatives, being introduced to a colorful cast of people that he knows nothing about and is never going to see again. The love for each other they had was evident in every interaction — the carefully planned-out itinerary, accomodating for everyone's tastes. The kids slipping into familiar camaraderie, adults reminiscing over shared memories.
He dredges up the last of his energy to carry him through his evening routine, washing up and changing out of his clothes in a daze. He carefully ignores the trembling in his hands, a sure sign of an upcoming crash.
Just a little longer, he tells himself. Just one more push, then you can rest.
The weight of the day catches up to Yushi as soon as he's stepped into his sweatpants, bringing him to his knees on the rough carpet. The fabric is coarse under his fingers, so different from the familiar tiled floors of his college dorm, or the soft fluff of his living room rug, or the wooden flooring back in —
His hands are shaking, scrabbling for purchase. He's helpless to the rising tide of exhaustion cresting within him, dragging him deeper, and he sinks underneath without a struggle.
Awareness returns to Yushi in pieces. There's a crick in his neck, a sharp spike of pain right between his vertebrae. His eyes are dry, as if he'd left them open for too long. There's a stickiness to his lips, a dry prickle in his throat.
He blinks, letting his vision settle back into focus. He doesn't know how much time he's lost — the night is a dark blue behind the drawn blinds, faint city lights casting sharp shadows across the pale walls.
No, no, not again.
Panic crawls up his throat like bile, jolting his brain back into hyperawareness.
Suddenly, Yushi feels everything — the press of his t-shirt sleeves against his arms, the ends of his hair sticking to his face, the texture of the carpet against his ankles.
It's too much. It's too much, and he doesn't know what to do, the walls are closing in on him, and he keeps losing time, he has things he needs to do, and he can't—
He fumbles for his phone, shaking fingers moving on instinct, against his will. Muscle memory — the contact he's dialed a thousand times.
He knows it's a bad idea — he just doesn't know how to stop himself.
"Yushi-kun!"
Sion's voice cuts through the darkness like a beacon, radiant through the tinny phone speaker.
The familiarity of the address hits him square in the chest, borne after years of knowing and understanding each other, of countless memories shared together, and Yushi just—
"Sion-hyung—"
— lets out a sob, quiet and choked. He didn't even know he was holding his breath.
Now that he's started crying, he can't seem to stop. The pressure in his lungs pulls at him, dragging him deeper into the undertow.
It's all for nothing, he thinks to himself hysterically. It's going to be like this forever. You, left behind. You, forever a million miles away from everyone you love. You have no reason to believe any of this will be worth it, you have no reason to hope, greedy for something more, aching, empty, always left wanting, always—
"—okay, you're alright, you can let it out. I love you, I'm here for you. Do you want a distraction? Do you want to talk? Do you want me to tell you about my day? Yushi-kun? Ushi-ya? Can you hear me? Yushi?"
The ringing in his ears fades into a fuzzy static. Sion's voice pitches higher with every word he says, sweet nothings doused in panic.
With a jolt of horror, Yushi realizes that Sion's still on the other end of the line.
"Hyung," Yushi hums numbly into the receiver. Words are beyond him, at this point, but he knows he should reassure Sion somehow.
"Yushi-kun," Sion breathes out, relief and worry evident in one heavy exhale.
Yushi bites down on the inside of his mouth, hard. His canines cut into his tongue. He takes a quiet breath through his nose — in, then out, careful not to make any sound.
"Sorry to worry you, hyung, i'm fine," Yushi murmurs into the receiver. He pulls his voice tight, doing his best to hide the stumbling over unfamiliar consonants.
Sion hums in acquiescence before going quiet.
Yushi takes a full moment to breathe, sprawling out on the floor, feeling the tightness in his chest loosen with every inhale.
"I wish you wouldn't lie to me, Yushi-kun," Sion says, after a long pause. His voice is heavy, unlike anything Yushi has ever heard in their two whole years of friendship.
Guilt like a ripcurrent rises within Yushi again, threatening to swallow him whole.
"I should be better than this," Yushi mutters to himself. White-hot anger rips through him, foaming and cresting above the frustration. "I shouldn't need any of you."
Sion makes a frustrated noise in the background. "Yushi-kun, none of us are asking you not to need us. The only thing we are asking you is for you to tell us before it gets this bad again."
Yushi stares at the ceiling, trying to process what Sion just said.
It feels unreal, somehow, that someone would want to care for him like this. That someone would want to bear witness to his weakness. That he could let someone in, trust them enough not to hurt him in the worst ways.
See him for who he really is and still choose to stay.
"I'm tired, Sion-hyung," Yushi murmurs.
He knows he probably sounds like a brat, but he can't seem to bring himself to care. His voice doesn't feel like his own anymore — hazy, distant, as if it's underwater. The flickering lights of the houses outside cast jellyfish patterns on the ceiling.
He feels like he's stuck again, drowning under the weight of everything he has to carry. He has to get his passport remade. He needs to apply to internships. He needs to call his brother. He has to email the insurance company. He needs to study for his midterm.
"We're all here for you," Sion says. Not you can take a break, because they both know that isn't true. Not it'll get better, because they both know it's only going to be more difficult from here.
"If you ever need anything, at any time of the day — I will pick up. I know for a fact Daeyoung and Riku would, too. Being there for you, Yushi — I'm so grateful, that I'm someone you feel comfortable sharing your heart with."
It's quiet for another few moments.
Yushi can hear the noises of the city around Sion, stretched thin over distance. Muffled voices, fading laughter, a drumming bassline in the background, far away from this pocket of privacy that Sion has carved out for them.
"It's a heavy burden to bear," Sion says, gently, "but you don't have to bear it alone."
Sion's voice is threaded with love and longing in equal measure, gentle comfort weighing down every syllable. It's the same tone of voice he's seen used on Daeyoung and Sakuya countless times after a hard day.
If Yushi tries hard enough, he can almost convince himself that Sion is right beside him. Holding Yushi's palms in his hands, letting Yushi rest his head on his shoulder, petting his hair. A brief respite from the world under the careful shade of Sion's attention.
The aching want thought brings a fresh wave of tears to his eyes, and he has to stop himself from sobbing into the receiver again.
"It's so hard," Yushi breathes shakily. "I know, I know there are people that love me, but everyone's so far away and I want someone here, right here, right beside me, it's been so hard and I don't know much longer I can keep going and—"
"Yushi-kun, you're working yourself up again. Can you breathe with me?"
Yushi holds on to Sion's voice like an anchor, barely keeping him tethered. His head is pounding, throat choked up with emotion, a dam breaking open after so many months of pressure.
"Yushi," after a long pause from the end of the line, and oh, Sion's voice is worn so much thinner now.
"I don't ever want you to feel like — like you can't talk to me," Sion continues. "but I wish you would tell us — me, Daeyoung, Riku-kun, any of us, before it gets this bad. I don't—"
Sion cuts himself off, taking a sharp breath in. Yushi startles — he didn't realize how much his struggling was affecting Sion himself.
"It'll be worth it, someday," Sion says through the receiver, desperation quickening the cadence of his speech. "Please, Yushi-kun, hold on to that. There's people that want you in their lives. there's people that love you."
"Ryo-kun talks about how much he misses you every day. Sakuya tried ordering extra-spicy ramen in your honor. Riku texted me choreo he wants to do with you when you get back—"
Sion's voice cracks roughly, and the sound that comes out sounds like a mangled cry.
"So please, Yushi. Lean on us when you need to. Don't wait till it gets this bad."
Yushi takes in the words, absorbs them. Lets them sink in. Resolves to convince himself that they may be true -- if not for him, then for the people he loves.
There's silence on the line for a few moments, filled only by the steady heartbeat of the city below.
"Do you want to hear about my day?" Sion asks. There's no trace of his previous despair in his voice — it's gentle and even, a chance to start over.
Yushi hesitates for a split second — he's already taken up so much of Sion's time — before remembering the ghost of Sion's words from before.
Lean on us when you need to.
Yushi hums into the receiver, taking the graceful exit for what it is.
Sion pulls him into stories about his summer internship — these two interns that are almost defintely hooking up, his commute back to his apartment, the new Korean place he's tried recently. Yushi finds himself nodding along to those anecdotes — letting himself be drawn into Sion's familiar warmth, wrapping around him like a blanket.
Soon enough, the burden on his heart lightens, and Yushi finds himself quietly laughing at Sion's dramatic reenactments of his HR meetings.
It's getting late — the exhaustion from the panic attack and the subsequent breakdown is crashing down on Yushi, and he's struggling to keep his eyes open.
Sion must have some sort of sixth sense for these things, since he only laughs after a couple of minutes of sleepy silence from Yushi's end.
"Go to sleep, Ushi-yah."
"But—" Yushi starts, hesitant. "Can you — stay with me? Stay on the line till i fall asleep?"
"Sure," Sion replies, an unmistakeable warmth threading through his words. "Whatever you need, anytime."
Yushi slips the phone beside him, tucks himself under his sheets, and lets the gentle currents of Sion's voice lull him into a dreamless sleep.