♡

JANUARY 27

what am i... bipolar?

   Lately, Minho felt as if he were two different people. During the day, he dragged himself through classes, feeling more or less like his normal self (just a bit more sluggish and miserable than what he used to be, maybe... or a lot more sluggish and miserable), but at night, when his red-rimmed eyes were glued to the ceiling because no matter how long and hard he tried, he couldn't sleep, he turned into someone scarily desperate. Someone willing to do something he would most definitely regret. 

    And today, amongst all the days he spent suffering like this on his own, something happened. Just one little thing.

   Jisung looked at him with those eyes again today.

    But... let's start from the beginning. Minho didn't wake up that morning, because, as previously mentioned, he never fell asleep. Instead, he waited, lying motionless on his side until about 5 AM to give up on getting any sleep, because his stupid brain never shut up. By then, certain embarrassing cravings had died down and he started to feel a little more like himself again— the person who couldn't stand the thought of anyone coming near him. He breathed a sigh of relief, because last night had been a close call.

    He felt sick the moment he stood on his shaky legs, walking stiffly toward the dresser to grab himself a set of fresh clothes to change into after what would likely end up being an hour-long shower. No one else was really up this early, so thank goodness he was alone as he stumbled down the hall to the bathroom.

    He was getting unfortunately used to doing this— taking very long showers, very early in the morning, because he hoped, somehow, he'd be able to wash off the serious sleep deprivation etched into his face. And that he'd be able to comb the tangles out of his hair that would get almost matted overnight with how much he tossed and turned. Maybe even that he'd be able to jump-start his fatigued body with a few minutes of ice-cold water pouring down his back at the end of his shower. But it didn't seem to help.

    Well, he was able to detangle his hair each time, but when he left the shower all he did was shiver (still, tiredly), and stagger to one of the sinks to stare at his face in the mirror. It only ever got worse. He'd been visibly tired for quite some time now, but today he prodded at the dark circles and dull skin and examined the immense redness of his eyes and concluded that he looked as if he should be limping around with his arms outstretched and groaning about brains. Yeah, he looked like a zombie.

   Then, he returned to his room, skipping breakfast since the thought of food was rather off-putting, and sat down to try going over some biology notes (keyword: try), until his alarm went off to tell him he had five minutes to get to his first class— speaking of which, he realized he really ought to change that to give him ten minutes at this rate. Five minutes was cutting it close when he walked like a zombie. A lightheaded zombie.

   It was a good thing he had the muscle memory to trust to carry him down the stairs, left, down the hall, all the way to the third classroom, because he honestly didn't even remember what his first class was while he was walking to it. Forgetting important things like that was becoming unfortunately commonplace, and yes, he knew it was because he was exhausted, but what was there to do?

   He just barely made it within five minutes, judging from the amount of chairs already filled, and he sunk down tiredly into the seat he picked solely because it was close to him when he got through the door, and there were a few empty chairs surrounding it on each side. 

   To keep himself from shutting them, Minho dragged his eyes around the room, checking for the high school boys, just because it was something that would keep him alert, instead of staring into space until class started.

   He spotted a mess of curls somewhere towards the front, so that's where Chan was, with closer examination, Hyunjin was there, too, and so was well... everyone else.

   The fateful mistake Minho made was letting himself zone out like that, staring at them, because within twenty-or-so seconds, when the professor shut the doors suddenly to start the class, one of the boys jumped a little and looked back behind him— and behind him was Minho, who he, of course, had to notice.

   Minho's reaction time had gotten pretty awful recently, so he had no way of looking away before their eyes met.  And he saw the boy's face change from the startled expression caused by the noise to... that look.

    Jisung's gaze, at one point, had felt like nothing but a searching spotlight, under which Minho's weakness and vulnerability was suddenly on display and he could do nothing to cover it. Now, it seemed to feel like some sort of heavenly glow that gave Minho a little glimpse of a warmth so intense he hadn't felt anything like it since July's sun was pounding down on him as he trekked across the diner parking lot after his shift ended.

    He still felt insecure under Jisung's eyes, because they still seemed to sense that there was turmoil inside of him that he was doing his best to cover, but there was something else there, something his x-ray eyes that Minho never payed attention to before... or maybe he saw it before but disregarded it immediately. It looked like Jisung was trying to tell him something, made even more obvious by that caring set to his slightly up-turned lips and his slanted eyebrows.

    It was like... he was saying, "If you need anything, I'm here."

    ...And that was exactly what Minho— daytime, sane Minho— was afraid of hearing, because that just might be the last blow needed to knock out his resolve.

   ...And maybe because it was exactly what he wanted to hear— that there was someone willing and able to fix him. He hated himself for that. He missed the days when all he wanted was to escape Jisung's gaze. When he was entirely sure that he wanted Jisung nowhere near him because the way he was so perceptive was freaky and made Minho uncomfortable.

    When Jisung's concerned eyes caught Minho's red, aching ones, Minho realized that it had been a quite while since this sort of thing last happened.  Maybe Jisung had never stopped looking at him and he was just too focused on staring straight ahead— avoiding everyone's faces— to notice, or maybe he'd stopped doing it at some point like Minho had hoped he would. Really, Minho had been trying his absolute hardest to avoid eye contact with Jisung at all costs for just over a month at this point, and until now it had worked pretty well.

   After that, there was a subtle tremble in his whole body for the rest of the day. Minho had come to realize something. That encounter with Jisung, no matter how insignificant it would've seemed to anyone watching, was officially the last straw.

   Daytime Minho was now the same person as Nighttime Minho.

♡

   Minho felt so lost.

   Getting into his bed was terrifying tonight, because he knew he wasn't in his regular mind even before he went to his room, so what on earth would it be like in an hour or two after he lying awake, subject to the clanging and clashing of panicked thoughts circulating through his head while his body hurt in more ways than he was currently able to count? But just because it wasn't his regular mind didn't mean that he'd never experienced this before.

    The way he could only think about the pain, not the consequences of relief... The way his mind no longer felt like a sea of sharks ready to swarm and inflict self-judgement on every little thought— it was only panic, no repulsion. It only happened once before.

『 ↳✧･ﾟ

hurts so much. my head and my eyes, they're gonna explode. ...haven't been so tired in... well.. a month. 

is my chest actually caving in or am i hallucinating?

ah... 

why am i not strong enough to just wait it out? it'd go away eventually, wouldn't it? the aches and the itches, they would calm down if i just fought through a few more nights?

is it even worth it to fight anymore? why do i even fight? jisung's right there. down the hall. i just want to feel the way i did back then, with his heartbeat in my ear... but that's weird! and gross. ...right?

he'd help me. he would. i want him to— wait, no. i don't. 

...but it hurts so much.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 』

   He fought himself only another half hour, yelling frustratedly into his pillow when his thoughts looped so many times he got dizzy, before he sat up, strung up and shaking with the heaviness of his conflicting feelings. He put his feet to the scratchy carpet. And he stopped, with the weight in his shaking knees. It didn't feel right... Maybe he should lay down again, and just try to fall asleep for one more hour. ...Or, he could go now. Sleep was calling for him, loud and clear, and he figured, for whatever weird reason, Jisung was the fastest way to get to it.

    It only hurt more to think, but he had to think about this. Unfortunately, he just couldn't think straight. He knew that the things his brain was coming up with weren't what they usually were— what they should've been. ...Or was this his real mind, and whatever he was used to was just a result of his pretending? Was this— this scarily desperate person— really him?

    He sat at the edge of the mattress in the dark, dazed, thoughts running rampant.

『 ↳✧･ﾟ

i've done this before... i'll hate myself a thousand times more in the morning but i can't take another sleepless night. 

...what a letdown. i spent all these years trying my absolute hardest to carry this all myself and now matter what i do it seems, in the end, i can't. i'm... i'm not strong enough. but all i ever wanted to be was self-sufficient. anything but weak. 

what have i ever done but pretend. for my whole life. that i can carry the weight. i'd like to think that i'm strong enough to handle this. 

...well, clearly my body isn't. it won't listen. why does it keep acting up recently— making me give in? ruining my life. ...but it's not just my body. when he looked at me earlier i just... even if my body could survive one more all-nighter, can i really endure it?

i can't. 

this is where i lose. again.

i can't sleep. i can't think straight. i can't breathe. feels like i'm dying.

i need jisung. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 』

   He should've taken it slower when he did get up, though the lightheadedness hit him a little late, only coming in while he left his room and walked across the hall, and blood rushed to his head as he opened Jilix's door uncertainly. But he was past the point of common sense and didn't really notice in time to slow down, and maybe steady himself against a wall.

    He hesitated for a moment, realizing that he was literally barging into Jisung and Felix's room in the middle of the night unwarranted. Ah, this was a bad idea...

    The room was spinning as he saw Jisung shoot up in bed. "Jisung—" Minho pleaded, through a whisper, taking shaky, unsure steps closer to him.

『 ↳✧･ﾟ

hey, sung

i need your help. again. i can't hide it anymore.

i'm lightheaded, but my body feels heavy. 

...when it falls, will you catch me?

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 』

   There were spots popping up all over his field of vision, and suddenly he felt his legs going out.

i didn't mean to make this look so dramatic. sorry. just didn't think.

    With his darkening vision, he was hardly able to see Jisung dive onto his knees to catch him.

    At the thud on the floor, Felix stirred, slurring out a half-asleep question about what was going on, but Jisung assured him everything was okay and told him to go back to sleep as he propped Minho up in his arms.

    It had happened so fast that he didn't even have time to process the way Jisung's arms wrapped around him, holding him tight, warm, and secure. No shivers, no gagging, no flinching.

    It felt unfortunately nice to be there again. In Jisung's arms. It was humiliating. It didn't even sting when Jisung's skin pressed against his.

    It was a relief that he could just.. not worry about holding himself up, because Jisung was currently doing that for him, seeing as that was a lot of work for his exhausted body at that moment.

    Felix was back to sleep the next instant, and Jisung immediately began checking Minho over for any signs of injury, while frantically asking him what was wrong with him that had made him collapse like that.

    "What's the matter? Are your legs okay? Did you hit your head?" Jisung questioned, in a slurred, sleepy sort of panic.

    He shook his head slightly, knocking it softly into Jisung's arm on accident "J-just lightheaded..." I'm... really tired," Minho replied, weakly, too out of it to even attempt making himself sound less pitiful.

    At that, Jisung's tone changed, and his face sunk from concerned to upset, because he realized what was going on. "You're not sleeping again? For how long?"

    "I don't know... Few weeks."

    He was actually upset with Minho, and it was clear as gave a frustrated sigh and he let Minho have it, as quietly as he could for Felix's sake. "Will you quit waiting till the last second to come to me?!" he snapped, with grogginess still immanent in his gravelly, growling voice. It stung Minho's ears, despite the fact that it was quiet. Jisung was angry.

    Jisung was a bit rough as he slung Minho's arm over his neck by the wrist to keep him from collapsing again, and slowly brought him up from the floor, then lead him out of the room, kicking the door shut behind them. Minho had never seen him like this before.

    However, by the time Jisung was dragging Minho to his room and pulling him down onto the bed with him, he was mostly calm again and turned gentler, maybe because he looked at Minho for a moment and saw the faintest traces of fear in his eyes, since Minho was in no state to hide anything right now (that itself was something to be terrified of).

    Minho was draped over his chest as he laid down and pulled the blanket over them. He was pressed against Jisung, eyes wide in the dark, heart pounding, muscles tensed. He couldn't think at all.

    A few minutes passed, quietly, tensely. Minho felt Jisung's chest rise and fall slowly. His loosely-closed fist, which laid right beneath Jisung's collarbone, twitched slightly. He wondered if Jisung could feel it, because they were that close.

    Then, Jisung began to run his hand through Minho's hair soothingly. And it was incredibly soothing; weeks of discomfort and tension melting away bit by bit with each time Jisung's fingertips made contact. Minho's shoulders fell lax, seemingly on their own, and he sunk down completely flat without intending to. 

   Suddenly, this bed had changed. Minho spent weeks losing sleep here, becoming more and more afraid of staring at the ceiling for hours, until just getting into bed had become a bad experience, and he would feel his heart drop at the thought of it. It began to feel like a prison. How did Jisung make that all melt away, as easily as the tension in Minho's body? How did he make it feel like the only place Minho wanted to be right now? 

    And then, the hand left his hair. Jisung's arms wrapped loosely around Minho and held onto him in a way that made Minho's chest feel ready to burst. It was incredibly overwhelming; he couldn't help but squeeze his eyes shut and huff heavy breaths into Jisung's shirt. He hoped Jisung didn't feel it getting damp when he pressed his face into it.

    With a much softer voice this time, Jisung murmured, "You have to stop doing this to yourself." he paused, sighing in between. "I thought I was just giving you space, all this time. Why didn't you tell me?"

    Minho didn't say anything, because he couldn't.

    When he got no answer, Jisung turned them both onto their sides. Minho was facing Jisung as Jisung caught his cheek in his hand and looked into his opened eyes in the dark. "Don't you understand that it hurts me to see you like this?"

    He didn't want to open his mouth, but the intensity of Jisung's eyes made him desperate for an escape. Barely audibly, because his throat was closing up at the thought of speaking, Minho breathed, "Sorry." He hoped that'd be enough to get Jisung to lay back down and stop looking at him. That made this so much worse.

    "Tell me," Jisung insisted. "Tell me you're going to try." His words weren't usually this firm.

    Minho was more or less scared into replying, "I... I'll try, Jisung."

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

feeling kinda sick after writing that lol :')

^^ 

i wrote that after just writing the last like 1000 words of it months ago and now i feel double sick after thinking about it and reading it over and over for editing purposes hhhhh