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It comes out of nowhere; it always does.
One minute, he’s sitting in his chair, laughing with the others, then it all just goes blank. His chest feels too heavy, like it’s lumbering to escape yet stuck in its confines all the same, like someone is applying pressure on it. He becomes conscious of his heart beating in his chest — just the way it always has, but something about it is different, something about in it spikes fear; and there exists a desire, a pointless desire to flee, to be there anywhere but here, as if that would change anything.
Sunghoon notices; he always does. He sees when Sunoo starts to grip the fabric of his pants a bit too tight, when his leg begins to shake against his, when he starts to go silent and zone out, even if it’s not noticeable to the others.
“I think that’s all the time we have for today,” Sunghoon cuts in, right after Jungwon answers the interviewer’s latest question. It was the second to the last one already, and whether they have enough footage or not couldn’t matter less to him.
“Hey,” Sunoo says quietly, when the others are too far to hear him. Sunghoon knows he doesn’t want him to do anything, knows that he feels bad about “ruining” everything just because he “can’t control the way he feels.” “You don’t have to do this for me, you know.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Sunghoon brushes it off. It’s the least he can do, he doesn’t say.
“They might ask about it later.”
“I’ll come up with some elaborate lie then.” Sunghoon grins and nudges him, trying to lighten the mood. “You know I’m great at that.”
Sunoo smiles at him, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
The ride back to the dorms is quiet. Sunghoon tries not to ask about it; no one else knows, and he knows Sunoo would hate for them to, even as he watches the look on Sunoo’s face, who stares out the window in silence with his airpods plugged in. Sunghoon worries for him, even as he tries not to. It’s all he can do.
Sunghoon really hates how powerless he feels; he wishes he could do something to take all of his struggle away, no matter what it would cost him.
~
His tears roll down his face before he can even lock the door.
It hurts like it hasn’t in a while. Lately, things had been getting better for him — or at least, he thought so. He let himself believe he was done being a burden to those who had to take care of him, or faking it all behind laughs he didn’t really mean, or having to go to those appointments and take those stupid pills just to be himself again. He wondered when that became something he had to force himself to do. It didn’t used to be so difficult, before, just to be stable.
It’s all pointless, really, Sunoo can’t help but think, as he slides down against the door, already pressing against his eyes, until he can’t see anything but darkness. It always comes back to this, tear-stained eyes and a heaviness that just won’t go away.
Sunoo pulls his phone out from his jeans, aimlessly scrolling through his contacts, anything to take him away from his thoughts. He scrolls by old friends, ones that promised to listen if he needed anything. He’d stopped replying when things got really bad, thinking he’d burdened them enough. Then, he comes across his family’s contacts, who he keeps promising to visit, or at least call, when things aren’t so busy with him. Though he wanted nothing more than to be in their embrace, even just one more time, he ultimately decided not to, not wanting to see the helpless look in their eyes or hear the pity in their voices when he told them things had been getting worse for him, again.
A knock on the door interrupts his thoughts. Sunghoon. He always knows, always shows up, even before Sunoo can even say anything. Sunghoon’s the only one who knows that behind self-isolation and silence, the weapons that hide the most raw parts of himself, maybe all he wants is for someone to see him, fully, and to decide to stay despite what they see, even when he doesn’t deserve that kindness.
Sunoo half-heartedly wipes his tears as he gets up to unlock the door. Before he can even register anything, he feels a warm presence envelope him, as familiar arms pull him close.
“Hi,” he croaks out. His voice sounds rough from crying, vulnerable in all the worst places.
“Heard you needed your favorite person,” Sunghoon says, always one to try and cheer him up. Sunoo laughs half-heartedly, even as his voice breaks, melting into the hug and letting Sunghoon support his weight.
Sunghoon doesn’t say anything else, just lets Sunoo’s tears roll down and land onto his hoodie.
It would be so easy to just stay here, to get caught up in relying on someone, but Sunoo doesn’t ever want Sunghoon to have to carry that weight for him.
“Don’t you ever get tired?” He impulsively asks, pulling back from the hug and wiping his eyes roughly. Even he feels tired, impossibly so, of himself, so he can’t imagine how Sunghoon must feel having to pick up the broken, incomprehensible pieces of him.
“Of?” Sunghoon hums, like he had no clue in the world, as he takes him by the hand and guides him to lay down on his bed, as gentle as the very first time he came to comfort him.
Sunoo makes a vague gesture, even as his hand shakes. “This.” Me, he thinks, but doesn’t say.
“Not really,” Sunghoon shrugs, moving the covers over to him and sitting beside him, all while watching him intently, like he’s worried something might happen to him at any moment. Sunoo hates noticing the concern in his gaze. He hates giving Sunghoon something to worry about, when he’s already got so much to deal with. There’s no point of him wasting time on a burden that shouldn’t even be his to deal with.
“I’d rather spend time with you than doing anything else, no matter how you feel,” Sunghoon says, taking Sunoo’s hand onto his own and tracing circles on it tenderly. He has a way of answering the questions that Sunoo can’t bring himself to ask.
Sunoo breathes out, leaning his head on Sunghoon’s shoulder as fear rises and falls within his chest. “I’m scared.”
He only ever says that around Sunghoon. In the past, people would always ask, “of what?” and he can’t really blame them — it’s a natural question and they’re just trying to help — but he’s tired of not knowing what to answer. Sunoo wishes he knew, more than anything.
“That’s okay,” Sunghoon says instead. “I’m here.”
Silence falls between them, as Sunoo stares down at their interlocked fingers. It grounds him in his desperate search for calm, gives him something to focus on other than the rapid beating of his heart echoing in his mind. Nausea builds up, rising from his chest like bile and swelling at the back of his throat, the kind that makes him feel that this feeling is meant to stay forever.
Maybe he’s just meant to perpetually return to this state, to this broken shell of who he used to be, to the past that never fails to catch up to him.
He forces himself to speak and break out of the trance before he spirals deeper.
“What if it doesn’t get better?” Sunoo whispers, his voice shaking, as if saying it louder would make the possibility more real. “What then?”
“Then I’ll be here until it is, even just a bit.” Sunghoon says, reaching out to gently wipe his tears with his thumb. “No matter how long it takes.”
“You don’t know that it ever will.”
“Maybe I don’t,” Sunghoon replies, “but what I can promise is that I’ll never stop showing up for you.”
You deserve better than this,” Sunoo looks down, fingers fidgeting with his blanket, “than me.”
“Hey,” Sunghoon replies, gentle yet firm. “There’s no one better for me than you. Besides, this is what we promised, right? That we would stay by each other’s side no matter what. I’m just fulfilling my promise, sunshine.”
“But you’re always the one having to take care of me,” Sunoo chokes out, fresh tears building up in his eyes. “It’s not fair.”
“I told you,” Sunghoon holds him tight, carding a hand through his hair soothingly, “I don’t ever want to be something you have to worry about. I’m already glad you let me be here for you. Taking care of you is my peace.”
“I’m sorry,” Sunoo apologizes, breaking into a sob. It’s all he can do. “I’m really sorry. I don’t want you to worry about me and have to take care of me for no reason.”
“I love you,” Sunghoon looks at him fondly, like he isn’t messy and broken and hurting out in the open. Sunoo doesn’t understand how he can see him that way, like he’s something worth looking at, much more loving.
“That’s always enough reason.”
Sunoo cries harder at that, and Sunghoon just lets him, not saying anything, just silently holding him tighter.
Maybe that’s all he can do right now, but he hopes it will be enough.