Jongin pushes the heels of his palms into his eyes. There’s a migraine starting, again. He doesn’t want to stop working when he’s finally making progress, but his eyes hurt.

Maybe it’ll go away after a soda. Sometimes the caffeine helps. He doesn’t want to have to leave to get headache pills; he’ll look like a miserable drunk with his squinted eyes and pinched frown.

The journey from his bedroom to the kitchen is excruciating. He keeps his eyes closed and follows the wall with his hands. He falls against the bathroom door, which he doesn’t remember closing but is grateful to, or he’d collapse right onto the linoleum.

Green numbers glare through the darkness, reminding him of time ticking away. Even the light of the refrigerator hurts. He shuts it fast and goes to the sink for a glass when the hairs on his arms rise.

A floorboard squeaks behind him.

The can falls from his hand into the sink, startling him and the person who touched his shoulder.

“Geez, way to overreact.”