Burnout ⊗ Jeongchan

⑤⓪ When We Fall Apart

Forewarning: Depictions of an anxiety attack and/or mental breakdown (last one, thankfully, I feel so bad writing this I'm putting him through so much I'm so sorry), suicidal thoughts, and descriptions that could potentially trigger emetophobia but nothing super graphic.

The car purred to a stop in the parking lot of the tall apartment building, engine humming into a silence as the older took the keys in his hands before exiting the vehicle. With hesitant steps, Jeongin slid out of the passenger seat and followed after him.

The interior appeared the same. A clean smell, a rich taste, the awe it once gave him turning into a familiar cringe to the point of nauseam. The plant with the punctured leaf on his first night visiting still sat in the corner alive as if it had never been damaged. It wasn't that long since he was last there, few days, a week at most, yet a chill collected on the walls and in corners he couldn't reach. A freeze glazing over the other people lounging in the lobby and the lively atmosphere it once had. His skin crawled, a shiver breaking out into goosebumps, and he drew his arms closer in on himself as his hands rubbed at his biceps. Trying to generate a heat he couldn't have.

As they stepped into the elevator, solid ground changing to a suspension from the highest ground, his knees buckled. He braced himself against the railing, managing to stay on his feet but the weakness in his body didn't leave him. This drowsiness washed over his nerves. A fuzziness in his head that wasn't there before, a vertigo in his ringing ears, the sleepless nights and void in his stomach catching up to consume him.

A hand quietly brushed against his, and Jeongin found himself leaning on the older in the elevator. Forehead to his collarbone, yet feeling nothing but a murky pattern in his touch. He thinks he might've heard someone asking if he was okay, or someone vying to talk to him but not being able to speak past a glass barrier. There was a reverb, an echo, the bass of a voice, but soft and unintelligible. He might've heard one voice, or two different ones, but it wouldn't have made a difference.

When the fog began to clear up, the supportive touch was slipping away. He might've tried to grab it back, fingers grazing his savior, to have a hand envelope his own.

One thing was for sure, he wasn't in an elevator. The ceiling was too vast and too far away to belong to an elevator, as well as a general comfort melting into his sore muscles that offered a mocking hug to him. A couch? It felt like a couch. It must have been. As he slowly pulled himself back from the edge of the world, the surroundings only confirmed his guess.

"How are you feeling?" The question cut through the last of the daze, a firm voice that called and grounded him back to reality.

Torn violently between wanting to attack the owner of the voice, and wanting the owner of the voice, Jeongin dropped the hand of the older next to him and rubbed lightly at his eyes. He muttered, "Like shit."

"Stay here," The street racer nodded before tossing his phone on the coffee table and beginning to walk away. He told softly, muttering more to himself as he made his way to the kitchen, "Get you something to drink, something to munch on too."

"I'm fine," Jeongin began to sit up, head screaming loud enough to send a wince through his features.

Chan whipped around, feet planting firmly to stand his ground. Jeongin outlined the tenseness in his shoulders with a tentative stare, bits of him curious and others saying not to trip landmines that may or may not have really existed in their world. He watched as Chan's shoulders struggled to straighten back up and his tone wavered, "Just this once, listen to me. Lay down. Stay there."

"Okay," Jeongin whispered the response after a few beats. His gaze still scanned the other. Even as he finally heeded his demand and carefully laid back on the couch, a wandering focus found it's way back to him every time. The younger breathed again as he settled, "Okay..."