skz oneshots | Changbin centric

Chores Pt. 1

TW: Overstimulation, stress, sensory overload, panic attack

Changbin had always been the unspoken backbone of their shared apartment. Although no one officially designated him as the dishwasher, there was an implicit agreement after every meal: "Changbin will handle it." As his roommates finished their dinners, they would casually toss his name into the air and walk away, leaving him alone to confront the aftermath of their culinary exploits.

Tonight, however, marked a departure from the usual routine. The sink presented an overwhelming scene — a mountain of dirty plates and utensils threatening to cascade onto the kitchen floor. Entering the room, Changbin, already burdened by the stress of a hectic day, was confronted by this daunting sight. Frustration welled up within him as he grasped the sheer magnitude of the task that lay ahead.

Changbin's world felt like it was unraveling, the overwhelming sensory assault pushing him to the edge. His hands, clammy and trembling, reflexively went to his ears, almost as if attempting to shield himself from the relentless onslaught. They hovered there, hesitant, never quite making contact. The flickering lights above cast erratic shadows, dancing to a rhythm he couldn't comprehend. The water running from the tap roared in his ears, each drop a dissonant note in the chaotic symphony that consumed him.

As he continued the seemingly endless task of washing dishes, he became acutely aware of the remnants of food clinging to them, each touch amplifying the discomfort. The once-familiar textures now felt like an intrusion, and the scent of detergent became an overpowering assault on his senses. "Fuck, I can't breathe," he muttered under his breath, the weight on his chest growing suffocating with each passing second.

His breaths became shallow, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead, evidence of the rising panic within. The room seemed to close in around him, the once-familiar surroundings now distorted and threatening. Panic set in, a torrent of overwhelming emotions crashing over him like a relentless wave.

Changbin's fingers, seemingly possessed by the turmoil within, flexed involuntarily. They reached up towards his ears, attempting to muffle the chaotic cacophony that echoed in his mind. His eyes, wide with panic, darted around the room, desperately searching for an escape from the sensory onslaught.

Stumbling backward, he knocked a chair, its scraping against the floor adding to the dissonance. With desperation in his eyes, Changbin frantically removed the lone headphone, hoping to cut off the auditory chaos that only seemed to intensify.

Sitting on the cool kitchen floor, the sensation beneath him was both grounding and foreign. His hands, still flexing and occasionally closing into fists, continued their rhythmic dance around his ears. The touch of the cold tiles against his trembling body offered a slight reprieve, yet the room still felt like a distorted reality. The weight on his chest refused to lift, and his eyes occasionally squeezed shut as if trying to escape the overwhelming stimuli.

In these solitary moments, his mind raced with thoughts that echoed the turmoil within. Why was everything so amplified? Why couldn't he regain control? The once-familiar environment now felt like a maze, and every sound, every texture seemed to conspire against him. The solitude only intensified the panic, trapping him in a disorienting loop.

"Changbin? You okay in there?" Felix's concerned voice cut through the haze from the living room, having heard the chair fall. There was no immediate response. As the other roommates hurriedly approached, Changbin remained on the floor, a vulnerable silhouette in the dimming light.

They found him, face buried in his hands, eyes squeezed shut, and hands still involuntarily reaching for his ears. The roommates gathered around him, their concerns etched across their faces. "Hey, hey, what's wrong?" Chan asked, his voice gentle but filled with worry.