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Jisung had tough days. He had days where the world was just too loud in his head, too busy and unfocused to let him work, too full of static and all these heavy doors that he couldn’t open.

Sometimes he could get through these days alone, plugging in his earphones and drowning the static loudness in his head with his favourite songs. Sometimes it could be easy to fight against himself.

But some days it was a bloody battle, and he didn’t come out of it in one piece. His head ached, throbbed, horribly. A dull pain had been growing all through his head all day, but it reached a peak Jisung didn’t know it was about to hit sometime mid-afternoon.

His eyes lost focus on the words on his screen. The lyrics of the songs he was listening to became one huge garble of words, a shrieking in his ears. He yanked his earphones out and buried them in his bag along with his laptop. This wasn’t working.

On days where Jisung had deadlines, he couldn’t afford to let the day float by, lifeless and silent, and hope for the best for the next day. On days like that, Jisung tried to push through until he broke.

Chan once found Jisung screwed up over his desk, music humming from his abandoned headphones, laptop blinking at him. It had been four or five in the morning. Jisung hadn’t even realised, his brain shutting down on him until he was just staring at his own hand, head on the desk, for hours. He’d been buried into Chan’s bed for a whole day for that.

But Jisung had work due in the next day that he couldn’t afford to be behind on. He’d already been given a week’s extension, so what could he do now? He had to do it.

But his brain – god, it refused to comply. He hated it. He just wanted to get on with his work, but his hands itched, and his head was filled with TV static, and all he wanted to do was scream and then sleep.

Jisung left the room and headed home.



Minho was still asleep in Jisung’s bed when he got home. He had a day off, which meant he could sleep half the day away and then finish his work off in the evening. Jisung was jealous.

Just a little nap, he though. A few minutes wrapped in Minho’s arms wouldn’t hurt anyone. He didn’t want to wake Minho up, though, so he didn’t set an alarm.

His laptop and his bag and his earphones stayed on the kitchen counter. His shoes landed somewhere nearby. His jacket slipped off the arm of the sofa the moment it was placed there by careless hands.

Jisung pulled back the covers carefully and slid into Minho’s arms. He let one of them fall around his waist, the other one tucked under Jisung’s head. Their noses could touch, like this, so softly. Jisung let them.

With the covers over them both and Jisung wrapped up in Minho’s arms, he could sleep. The loud static in his head slowly faded away, becoming nothing but a murmur of sound in the back of his head. At the forefront of his mind was Minho – long eyelashes, rosy cheeks, honey hair flat against his forehead, cherry lips in a tiny ‘o’. Jisung dipped up to kiss them – shy and barely there.

Jisung could ignore the anxiety crawling up through his bones as he fell asleep. He was okay here.



Jisung blinked blearily up at his surroundings. His head was full of mush and his limbs heavy. There was a warm something draped over him, and it took him a full five minutes to realise it was a person.

Actually, two persons. Minho yawned in his face, making Jisung screw up his nose and groan.

“You stink,” he groaned, pushing weakly at Minho’s chest.

He heard a giggle, soft, delighted. Hugging his back was Chan, arms around his waist, his fingers stroking the back of Minho’s hand. Jisung felt lips peppering the back of his neck, making him squirm and giggle.

Then he realised how dark it was. The kitchen light was streaming through the hallway, but it was still light enough to see everything clearly. The sun hadn’t set yet, but it wouldn’t be long until it did.

“Shit,” he hissed, struggling to force himself upright. “I have work to finish.”

Arms far stronger than him pulled him back down. Jisung didn’t have time for this. He heard Chan coo softly, and Minho make content little noises, and he almost caved.

Except the loud static had started blaring like alarms in his head. Panic turned to bile in his throat, his pulse now racing in his wrists and his neck.

“Sungie?” Chan must have felt the change. “What’s wrong?”

Jisung wriggled free. “I have so much work to do and it’s all due tomorrow and I’ve barely even started. If I don’t get this in, I’m fucking dead. Let me go.”

His tone – he was on edge. He probably sounded rude. He wanted to cry.

He whined, frustrated, when Chan pulled him back down against his chest. A kiss landed against his neck, and another against his cheek.

“You’re not going anywhere like this,” Chan whispered. “You’re tense and stressed. I know you have work due tomorrow but, in this state, you’ll never get it done. Then you’ll just feel worse. Minho hasn’t done any work today either.”

Minho huffed. “I slept longer because Jisungie was here. I slept too well, okay?”

Chan ruffled his messy hair, giggling. “I know, I know. You’re both terrible.”

Quiet fell over them. It was the perfect chance for Jisung to just let the tension in his body seep into the bed and curl up in his boyfriends’ arms.

“I just- I can’t get my brain to work,” Jisung confessed. “It’s filled with so much noise. I can never focus. It’s always so loud and I just… don’t know what to do. It won’t work the way I want it to.”

Minho pulled one of Jisung’s legs between his, nuzzling closer. “Shh, you’re okay. Your brain just works different, that’s fine. We’ll help you figure out what it needs to work, okay?”

It wasn’t okay, not yet, but Minho saying it was made it feel like it could be. There was some hope for him, he figured. He hoped.

“Don’t worry about your work right now,” Chan said quietly, sitting up enough to look Jisung in the eyes. “Just rest.”

His hand came up to pull the hair away from Jisung’s forehead so he could plant a kiss there, wet but sweet. Jisung only pretended to be grossed out.

Somewhere in the kitchen were his shoes, now tucked together with Chan’s and Minho’s and a pair of Felix’s slippers (which Changbin always stole). His jacket was folded up on the arm of the sofa for Felix to later wear when he would arrive to find all three of his boyfriends asleep on Jisung’s bed. And his laptop and his bag and his earphones were still on the kitchen counter, but Jisung would find them next to a coffee and a muffin for breakfast (he would have to kiss whoever got that for him).

And Jisung was tucked up in Chan and Minho’s arms under the covers, the hum of his thoughts not so loud as the afternoon melted into a cloudless night. He slept it all away, and even though he knew his work wasn’t done and he would be in a lot of shit for that, he could wait. He would be okay.