Today wasn’t going how Changbin had thought it would. It was getting significantly worse and showed no signs of giving him a break any time soon. His body was tired and his eyes pulsed when he blinked. He was itching for an energy drink, but a familiar little voice in the back of his head told him, No... you need water, Binnie. He hadn’t had a day like this in a while; not since Chan started coming over when he got off work.
But this week, Chan was busy.
With college work.
He had warned Changbin at the beginning of the week that he probably wouldn’t see him until the weekend. It’s Thursday. Changbin is so, so close. He needs to let Chan have this- some time to himself. Changbin sometimes felt like.. a chore. The type of chore your Mother asks you to do right after you just laid down after a long day, and you just grumble, but do it anyway because you love her. Chan works all day just to come home- to Changbins home, and do what exactly? Sit there. With Changbin, sure, but the younger never wanted to anything. He just liked laying with Chan, that’s all. He liked the silence. He liked how all of his senses were Chan. He could smell his cologne, feel his skin, taste his lips, see his pretty eyes… Tired eyes, Changbin reminded himself, Tired.
Changbins tired too, but not in the same way.
His head is muddled like a few days after a snowfall when the snow turns ugly shades of browns and grays and the only thing on the to-do list is to shovel. He feels like dirty snow as he lays in his bed, knees tucked into his chin in the fetal position. His skin is cold, dry. He didn’t wear a jacket out today. He didn’t expect it to rain. He supposes he never does.
No. Changbin thinks, rubbing his eyes with his palms. You’re gonna give him this whether it fucking kills you or not. He sighed. He can’t feel his toes. They’re wet from where they live inside his socks, a water puddle forming around them on the bedsheets. His hair is matted and smells like earth but he can’t be bothered to move from his bed and shower. He can’t be bothered to do much of anything but stare at the wall and will the tremble of his lips away.
He doesn’t know if he’s going to sob or die of hypothermia.
How do you describe what you’re feeling when you’re not feeling much at all? How do you describe the feeling of a vacancy?
Why do tears still come when there’s nothing left to cry about? What are you crying for?
No, not about, for.
A tear falls.
And that’s all the fight he’s got left in him.
A sob is pushed past Changbins tightly closed lips. It bounces off the walls, hitting him back in the face just to do it all over again. His heart begins to race, sounding more like a racehorse than a steady beat. Changbins stomach convulses, legs locking as he brings them impossibly closer to his body. Chan. Chan, Chan, Chan, Chan- Changbin’s breath catches in his throat, doubling over as a harsh cough wracks his frame.
Chan, Chan, Chan.
Changbin runs his hand along the bed, searching for his phone. Pathetic. You can’t even last a week. You can’t depend on Chan for everything.
Changbin sobs, shaky fingers grasping the cold phone.
He tries to type in his passcode, louder sobs leaving his body at every failed attempt.
If you keep doing this, Changbin, you’ll have to stop seeing hi-
“No!” Changbin screams, bile sneaking it’s way up to his throat.
He navigated to his messages.
He’s working, Changbin. He’s doing school work. He’s busy. Too busy for you.
Changbin sniffles, wiping his eyes with his calloused palms.
He waits. And waits some more.
See? What did I tell you, Changbin?
He’ll answer soon, Changbin knows it. He always answers when he needs him.
… too busy for you…
Chan🐺😏: hey Binnie!! what’s up?
Changbin swallows, taking a deep breath.
Binnie🦦: what r u doinf rn
Chan🐺😏: Taking a break from college work, I’m so tired 😔 wbu???
Changbin sobs. I told you he was tired, but you never listen to me.
Chan has a reason to be tired. Changbin should have never done this. He should have left the older to do his work but instead, he’s pestering him because he’s sad. Changbin stares blankly at the phone, breath ragged and strenuous on his body.
Chan🐺😏: Binnieeee!! Where’d you go?
Changbin stares. He can’t feel his toes. He can’t feel his fingers. He is dirty snow.
Chan🐺😏: You’re reading my messages…
Chan🐺😏: you good, changbin?
Changbin wimpers. He’s concerned, he- No. He isn't. You put him in a bad spot. What is he supposed to do, bolt when you leave him on read with no response?
Chan🐺😏: You’re kinda worrying me
Chan🐺😏: Are you okay?
Changbin flexes his fingers. He still can’t feel them.
Binnie🦦: pld comr over
Binnie🦦: im sorry
Binnie🦦: thougt i cld do it without u
His fingers press all the wrong buttons. He can’t type correctly. His body is shaking.
Chan🐺😏: I’m coming, Binnie
Chan🐺😏: It’ll be okay, yeah?
Chan🐺😏: Want me to call you?
Binnie🦦: yes pls
Changbins phone rings. He presses accept.
“Changbin?” Chan’s voice is soft and smooth on the call. Changbin whimpers.
“What’s up to today, love? What’s got you down?”
“‘Dunno..” Changbin sniffled. He didn’t really know. The world just felt like it was against him. Flat tire, mean people, dropped coffee, stubbed toe, stuck in the rain, missing boyfriend.
“You don’t know, or you just can’t explain how you’re feeling? Chan said softly, the sound of music from the radio playing in the background of the call.
Changbin swallowed. Chan always knew exactly where to hit. Even if Changbin didn’t know what he was feeling or couldn’t articulate the feeling of the black hole in his heart, he never needed to around Chan. He just… understood. It went without saying, what Changbin was feeling. Maybe it was because of their everlasting friendship from a young age that Chan could read him like an open book.
“Cant ‘plain it.” Changbin slurs. His throat feels raw. Chan hums through the phone.
“That’s alright…” Chan whispers.
“Can you give me a one to ten on how you’re feeling, maybe?”
Changbin thinks about it for a moment. He’s hyper-aware of the feeling of his wet toes touching in his socks. His pillow smells like earthworms. He’s thirsty. The cars outside are suddenly too loud.
He gulps, “A seven… or something. I don’t know.”
“That’s alright, Binnie. I’m almost there. Pulling onto your street now.”
“‘Kay,” Changbin whispers back.
His head is still spinning and he’s pretty sure his fingers are numb but Chan is coming.
But It still doesn’t feel right.
The door to Changbins room creaks open, light flooding the room from the living room where he forgot to turn the light off.
“Changbin?” Chan says in a low voice, not wanting to startle Changbin from where he’s curled in on himself.
Changbin turns slowly, neck feeling stiff as ever. His toes curl in his socks as his eyes fill with tears all over again at the sight of Chan.
“Hi.” He says brokenly, the first few tears slipping down his cheeks.
“Oh, baby…” Chan frowns, scrambling up onto the younger’s bed. He reaches for Changbin cautiously, leaving room for him to deny his touch. Chan would never do anything Changbin didn’t want him to.
“Hurts.” Changbin sobs out, face turning a bright shade of red. His nose is rubbed raw, as are his eyes.
Chan’s heart clenches at the boy's tears, arms wrapping around Changbins middle, where he pulls him to his chest. His hands rub down Changbins back tenderly. He buries his nose in the other's hair as he sobs against his shoulder. What happened? Chan can’t remember the last time he saw Changbin this bad. It hurts his own heart, to see the one who occupies it so distraught. Chan wishes he could shoulder Changbins pain for him. Nothing but a smile belongs on his face.
“Bad day, angel?” Chan pulls away, kisses his forehead before wiping his cheeks of warm tears. Changbin nods. “Missed you.” He responds quietly, lip quivering.
“I missed you too, Binnie.” Chan smiles at him. It’s visibly forced, and Changbin can see the worry behind it, but he appreciates it. It makes him feel just that bit better.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks.
“No?” Changbin responds, frowning. Should he? He doesn’t want to think about it anymore…
“That's just fine, Angel. Want a bath, instead?” Chan raises his eyebrow, a silly expression covering his face.
Changbin smiles a little, nods.
Today was a bad day.
“It’s a bad day, Changbinnie, not a bad life.”