No Tag Warnings apply.

Kris hadn’t been able to sleep for a while. His apartment always felt so lifeless and empty, especially now he spent all of his nights alone. The loneliness was awful, it crept up on him every night when he wasn’t working, leaving him in a constant state of paranoia and numbness.

It had gotten especially bad after the major accident.

There would be moments in time where his eyes would briefly glimpse at his hands and all he could see was the blood. Sometimes when he was in a parking lot or on a highway and he got the slightest whiff of tarmac or burning rubber he would begin to tense, terrified of looking around and finding mangled cars and people. Normally he would pass it off as something minor which would go away with time, everyone who worked in the emergency services had their experiences with trauma and stress-related side effects, but Kris had been feeling particularly vulnerable for a long time and he knew this one wouldn’t just go away. 

It was time for an intervention. He needed some professional help.

To be honest, he wasn’t ashamed to admit it, he wasn’t going to be the first or the last. He just wished he had a stronger will, a better defence. But it was easy to let things get on top of him, especially when he’d been feeling low on a daily basis. And yes, it absolutely was about Tao.

God, he missed him so much. Occasionally he would catch himself watching videos or scrolling through Instagram and he’d have to physically stop himself from sharing it with Tao, and then he’d feel that heaviness in his chest, that realisation that Tao wasn’t really with him anymore. He’d buy food at the supermarket that he’d always buy, then realise at home he never really liked it, he’d always get it for Tao. Arguably the worst part was going to bed alone and waking up alone. Regardless, he hated every moment. 

It was some random time in the night, Kris had stopped checking the clock a long time ago. He was staring at the patterns the street lights made on the ceiling of his bedroom. Every so often cars would pass and make the diagonal streaks change directions. If he kept this up he was going to go stir crazy.

Rolling onto his side, he tried to curl up some, but it was difficult with his long limbs. Slapping the mattress near his pillow he grabbed at his phone. 2:21 AM. His phone lock screen was so bright he had to keep one eye shut, but that didn’t stop him staring at the picture. It was from Kris’ last birthday, he’d taken Tao to Lotte World and spoiled him even though it should have been him being spoiled. They’d taken a selfie together with the bear-shaped cotton candy, Tao’s mouth open over one ear while Kris smiled next to him. He’d give anything to go back to that moment when things were so much better and he wasn’t lying awake, alone for the whole night, scared to sleep because of the nightmares.

Maybe it was because of the sleep deprivation, or perhaps the rush of emotions from thinking back to that moment in time, but he found himself opening up Tao’s contact. The last messages he’d sent were to tell him he missed him, a sentiment which was ignored. He didn’t want to scroll up to the previous messages, because it was just Tao telling him how unhappy he was, and he didn’t want to be reminded. He already felt like an .

It was his own fault, he was so scared of commitment that he didn’t really treat Tao properly. He wasn’t really that loving, or boyfriend like, he mainly acted like he was his best friend who he would occasionally . The way he portrayed himself was nothing like how he truly felt, though. He wanted so desperately to go back in time and change the way he had acted. But he wasn’t a time traveller or a miracle worker, he was just someone who had taken something for granted. Hindsight is always 20/20.

Besides, there wasn’t really much he could do in that department. Despite himself still feeling like it was a fresh wound, Tao had already moved on to someone else. Which was fine, that was his prerogative, he just couldn’t help but feel it was too fast, and why Sehun? He had a lot of questions that he needed the answers for in order to get some closure, but with the way, things currently stood, it would be a very long time before he ever got any answers.

Everyone said that time was the best healer, so why did he still feel just as bad as he did that first day he was truly alone?

--

It had been a reasonably average shift, Kyungsoo had successfully managed to avoid any conversation which was more than a few courteous words between colleagues, so he counted it as an overall success. During times like these, he liked to keep his conversations to an absolute minimum out of fear that he would show too much emotion and end up either screaming at someone or having a full-on psychotic breakdown.

Pulling up to Minseok’s house, he glanced down at the passenger seat. Over the past couple of weeks, he’d accumulated a fair amount of Tupperware which was in desperate need of a wash. He missed his apartment, Luhan’s cooking was great and all but he was putting on weight because he’d always get the biggest portions, probably out of guilt. There was a bottle of wine in his fridge which he’d opened before… all that bull happened, and it was most definitely ruined now.

Resting his arms on the steering wheel, he sighed heavily. The radio was still playing, some angry music he’d downloaded a while back which he’d decided was relevant again. Perhaps it was time to go back home, he wanted to shower in his own bathroom, eat his own food, sleep in his own sheets with his favourite brand of fabric softener. Yes, he would broach the subject with them both that evening.

Gathering his Tupperware, he shuffled his way towards the front door, he glanced back at his car, noticing that he’d had to park back further than normal since the street was busier. Then he felt the tiniest pang of guilt when he realised that most of the cars on the street were all clustered together. Oh well, he’d be leaving early in the morning for work so it didn’t really matter.

At the door, he noticed that all of the lights were on, using his elbow he opened the door and nudged it open with his back, careful of all the boxes. Normally he was greeted with distinct smells of cooking, but today all he could smell was the faint smell of the laundry detergent. When he went to take his shoes off, he saw an extra pair. Did they have guests? He better just shuffle off to his room and keep to himself if so.

He made a beeline for the kitchen so he could set all the boxes to soak, but before he could make it he heard Luhan call out to him.

“Sorry, I’m just putting these in here then I’ll get out of your hair,” he said, as softly as he could muster.

He started to unload (mainly the boxes just fell) but he was once again interrupted.

“Kyungsoo, you have a guest,” Luhan said, equally as soft.

 When Kyungsoo turned to glance at him, his expression was unreadable. Who would visit him here? Everyone who mattered to him knew that he was currently going through it and he was not to be disturbed, with the only exception being his mother. 

“Who is it?” he asked, child-like.

There was no verbal response, Luhan just gestured for someone to come into the kitchen, but they were hidden by the corridor. There was a feeling of apprehension, he had no idea what to expect, but if Luhan’s sullen expression was anything to go by it wasn’t anything good.

The door creaked as Jongin stepped into view, and honestly, it felt like the biggest punch in the gut Kyungsoo had ever felt. It was so strong he actually felt himself curl up a little, the adrenaline rush so forceful he felt all of his blood rush to his head. Was he going to faint?

No. 

He was going to stab Minseok though, who stepped into view shortly after.

Jongin looked tired, his normally luscious hair was ever so slightly greasy like he’d missed a wash day, and his normally vibrant skin was lifeless and dull. Which, to be honest, made it even more annoying that he still evoked that kind of reaction. Kyungsoo knew he didn’t exactly look great either, his new hairstyle hadn’t looked as good since the day he left the salon, and the increase in the number of carbs in his diet had left him feeling bloated and his skin certainly didn’t appreciate it.

It was silent f