The title for this bonus chapter, as well as the inspiration for the chapter itself, come from Troye Sivan's "Talk Me Down." If you haven't hear that song, you need to.

Something is wrong. The world is no less of a beautiful place, still filled with beautiful things and beautiful people that Suho spends his best days wanting to explore. He still fluctuates between those amazingly good days and the ones where he can't get out of bed, not even for the boyfriend who's been an unfailing presence in Suho's life since the moment they met. Kai is just as supportive and wonderful as he's always been, but still, something is wrong.

Suho can't identify it; can't say for sure what the problem is exactly; can't even really separate the suffocating anxiousness he feels about this from the general anxiety he lives through daily. All he knows is that something is wrong with Kai and Kai isn't sharing. It's clear to Suho—obvious to an almost unbearable degree—that Kai's had enough and is just too good of a person to dump Suho the way he really wants to do. Suho knows how much of a toll he is on those around him. He's not blind to the fact that a lot of that weight rests on Kai specifically; if he were Kai, Suho would want to break up with himself too.

Yet Suho can't bring himself to end things with Kai. He should, for Kai's sake. He knows this, but so few things in Suho's life are truly good and Suho's desperate to cling to the one person who makes him feel his safest. And he'll hold as tightly as he can for as long as Kai will let him, even when Suho knows that something is wrong and that that something is him.

Suho's not dumb. Of course he knows that he's the reason Kai's been quieter lately, that he's the cause of Kai's withdrawn presence whenever they get together for Netflix and chill. Emphasis on Netflix with little-to-no chill because even when distant Kai knows how to help make Suho feel secure and so far the physical aspects of their relationship have progressed at a pace set by Suho entirely. Suho would like to kiss Kai for hours, he really would, but he can barely bring himself to press his mouth to Kai's cheek without wondering if he remembered to brush his teeth after his last meal or worrying that the soft skin of Kai's tan cheek would be scratched by the seemingly permanent chap of Suho's lips. They hold hands, sometimes, when they sit together on Kai's bed with the laptop shared between them, but then Suho can't focus on the movie because what if his hands get clammy? What if Kai's unhappy with the minimal skinship Suho feels capable of giving him? What if this isn't enough?

The fear is there, choking him, dragging him down to a death of drowning in anxieties he cannot defeat. For his whole life Suho hasn't been enough; why should his relationship with Kai be any different?

He remembers that semester he spent at home. The whispers between his parents that he's sure were comments about what a disappointment their only son has turned out to be. The scrunching up of his sister's face when she introduced him to her boyfriend and Suho barely managed a shy "Hello" before he had to flee the room. The texts from Kai that kept him updated about things Suho wasn't at school to experience in person because Suho was a failure who couldn't even attend university without breaking down. He needed that semester at home, but he hates himself sometimes when he remembers it.

His phone buzzes against his thigh and Suho cringes at the noise it makes. He says an apology to the boy in the next room who hasn't been sleeping well recently; he's sorry if the sound of an incoming text woke his neighbor up. Suho certainly hopes it didn't, but luck is a hard thing to come by in his world.

It's Kai's name that pops up on the screen when Suho opens the messages app to take a look. He checks the clock sitting on the table next to his bed and wonders—worries, really—why his boyfriend would be texting when he's supposed to be in class. The not knowing kills him, especially when Kai's text reads a simple "Hyung, can I come over?"

And so it begins, Suho thinks, the end of us. He texts back an affirmative anyway.

Those next few moments are torturous. Suho flits around his room, straightening the covers on his bed even though he made it just that morning, tidying the things on top of his desk, pacing back and forth by the door once he's run out of things to clean but still finds himself desperately needing to do something.

A knock and a quiet "Hyung?" have Suho rushing forward to open the door, nearly tripping over himself in his fervent desire to just get this whole thing over with. Suho knows Kai is going to break up with him; he'd rather not drag it out.

"Hi, hyung," Kai greets, usual exuberance subdued by the something wrong that Suho knows is there but still can't pinpoint. There's that look on his face again—the one that seems like he's holding back tears—and suddenly Suho is in Kai's arms with a buried face pressed hard against his pale neck. And then Kai is crying, heaving heavy sobs into the skin at Suho's throat like he can't stop the flood of emotions that have him convulsing even as his grip around Suho's waist holds tight.

Something tells Suho this isn't about him. Selfishly, he's glad.

Unselfishly, Kai is hurting and Suho doesn't know what to do and he wonders, suddenly and painfully, if this is what Kai deals with every single day as he deals with Suho. If this is what it's like to love someone when they're in pain; to love someone through their pain. Suddenly Suho doesn't know how Kai does it, not because his anxiety is telling him no one in the beautiful world could possibly ever want him, but because this helpfulness makes Suho feel like he can barely breathe and he'd do anything, anything, to just make things good again.

It's Kai's dad, Suho discovers in the midst of cautiously placed palms against the wide expanse of Kai's back and tentative circles of comfort that Suho rubs there. He's finally succumbed to the illness he's had for Kai's entire life; the same illness that taught Kai how to love someone who was never going to get better; the very same illness that taught Kai how to love Suho. It's Kai's dad and he's gone.

"I know," Kai gasps out in broken syllables and weighted words, "I know you thought it was you. That I didn't want you anymore or that I was going to break up with you or something crazy like that." Suho doesn't agree with him; he doesn't have to for Kai to know that his words ring true. "I'm not," Kai reassures his boyfriend, somehow managing to soothe even when suffering. "I told you once that you're brave—one of the bravest people I know. And right now, hyung, I need you to be that." He takes a shaky breath that raises little goosebumps all along the stretch of Suho's neck. "Be brave for me, hyung."

The knowledge of how Kai feels about him is emboldening and Suho knows that if he's able to be brave at all, that he'll be brave for the one person who brings him no stress at all. He can't breed bravery spontaneously, but Suho does his best. It's nice to be trusted, after all, especially when he wallows in a constant state of "Am I stressing him out by admitting how stressed I am?" Having someone to lean on is an absolute necessity in Suho's life, but he's never felt more secure than right now as the person he leans on most has come to him to lean on.

Kai pulls away to brush the calloused pad of his thumb against the cut of Suho's cheekbone. Suho's eyes flutter shut at the sensation and is surprised to find his own lashes suspiciously wet. He cried for Kai and didn't even realize he was doing it; such, it seems, is the love Suho has for him.

"I don't want to do anything you're uncomfortable with, hyung." Kai's voice is a thin whisper, unsteady and unsure. "But would it be okay if we took a nap together or just cuddled or something? Frankly," Kai admits, running a hand through his hair absentmindedly and swiping roughly at the tears that dry in ticklish streaks down his cheeks, "I'm exhausted but I haven't been able to sleep since he started getting worse and now—" His voice breaks and Suho's heart breaks with it. "That's all I want to do right now," he finishes, and it's clear to Suho that every word is a struggle.

"Anything you need," he tells his boyfriend softly. Kai's moved his face away but they're still embracing and the hand against Kai's back is a little surer in its movements as Suho does what he can to pay back a little of the care that Kai had always so selflessly given. "I'm here for you. Being brave."

That's exactly what Kai needs to hear and soon he's pulling Suho by the waist down onto the bed with him. His body is long, much longer than Suho's, and the fit isn't the most comfortable, but since Kai doesn't seem to mind, Suho tries not to mind either. His sheets haven't been washed in a while, he thinks, and did he remember to put deodorant on this morning? He's not sure. He also doesn't know if he's doing enough to comfort Kai the way Kai needs, and he's not confident either  that he isn't going to suddenly have an attack over their immeasurably close physical proximity. He's really trying hard not to, really he is, but Suho's still anxious about it.

In fact, Suho's still anxious about everything. Having someone rely on him hasn't changed that; being sure a little more securely that he isn't the 'something wrong' hasn't changed that; Kai's arm around him and Kai's legs tangled with his own as they lie on Suho's bed like this hasn't changed that. He's still pretty convinced that Kai can do better, that there's someone else out there who can give Kai the love he deserves, especially during moments like this one.

The less time I spend with you, the less you need to heal. He doesn't say this to Kai aloud but it's there, in the air between them, and Kai, like he always does, ignores it. Instead, he pulls Suho close and finds that special spot where his face fits perfectly against Suho's neck. He breathes in deeply, calming himself—and Suho by proxy—then yawns.

"You smell like home," Kai tells Suho sleepily. It's strange thing to say, but also sweet, and Suho accepts this like Kai accepts him, and together they fall asleep.

Again, social anxiety is a real thing for some people. I hope I did this justice and I hope you can read my heart in the words I've written here.