[Possible TW]: descriptive scenes of anxiety and emotional comfort through submission

Sanghyuk is too tired to get anything done.

He looks up at Hongbin for permission at the doorway, and goes straight to his room when Hongbin says “Of course.” He hasn't asked permission for something like this in months. 

Sanghyuk wakes up after a while from a nightmare, and refuses to go back to sleep. It hardly happens – he is a fighter. When something pulls him out of sleep, he goes back to battle it again. But he obstinately refuses to go back to bed, and doesn’t want to do anything else but stare into space.  

“You have to sleep, Hyuk-ah.”

Sanghyuk doesn’t reply, just continues rubbing his hands. The world is collapsing around him but the inside of his head is so unsafe, he doesn’t know where to hide anymore. There is a cacophony plaguing him so closely it hurts and Hongbin doesn’t even know.

“Do you at least want to drink something?” Hongbin sighs. “You know if you sit still like that you’ll think of something and panic again.”                  

“I know,” Sanghyuk glances up at Hongbin and looks down again. “I’ll get something to drink later.”

“Are you going to sleep any more tonight? It’s only 10pm.”

There is a silence. Then, “I thought you promised me you wouldn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do.”

Hongbin stuns, looking like he got caught in a mistake that he didn’t commit. “I’m – not. I just think you should give it another try.”

“Well,” Sanghyuk stops fidgeting. “No thank you.”

“Alright then.” Hongbin turns rigidly away from Sanghyuk, half-expecting him to say something else but nothing comes. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

As he peels his orange and waits for his soy bean paste soup to warm on the stove, he hears the television come to life outside.  The channels switch steadily, almost as if Sanghyuk is reading a book – taking time to consider and contemplate each scene before flipping. It’s so Sanghyuk-like that Hongbin doesn’t notice when Sanghyuk finally decides on the channel. But suddenly the boy is standing at the kitchen entrance like a ghost, shaking and gripping tightly onto the television remote as if he’s going to drop it if he doesn’t focus on curling his fingers a certain way, with a certain strength.

“Oh?” Hongbin puts down his phone. “Sanghyuk-ah.”

Sanghyuk just keeps shaking. Hongbin can see the sleeve of his pajamas trembling slightly, as if a draft had blown in when it really hadn’t.

Hongbin turns off the stove and goes to peek out the kitchen at the living room. It’s the news channel. And it’s of the trial.

“Please, please, please,” Sanghyuk stammers. “You were right. You gotta get it out of my head, please. Please.”

“Hey, hey, now, shhhh,” Hongbin grabs Sanghyuk’s wrists tightly, holds it up to chest level, and tries to ignore the pleas that make their way into his ears, breaking apart his heart. “Everything is okay. Calm down. Everything is going to be fine.”  

“I don’t know, I just – I –” Hongbin can feel the muscles in Sanghyuk’s wrists moving, flexing, as the boy tries to keep his body up even with the panic and fear that he’s not breathing at all. “I can’t breathe. I want to – do, bad things – I’m so angry – I – I feel like I’m going to die. Hyung –”

“Okay, okay. Should I take control? Do you need me to?”

Sanghyuk nods, and nods fervently. He can hear his own heartbeat in his ears, the biting edge of anxiety taking ahold of his chest. His thoughts are moving at a million miles per second and everything is going so fast – time, thoughts, life, that he feels like he’s being swept away. He can’t do this anymore. He’s pushed too hard too fast and now he’s back here, shaking like he did on the first day.

“Okay, calm down. Who told you to panic?” Hongbin holds on to Sanghyuk’s wrists for the life of him. “I’m in charge now right? Did I tell you to think about things you don’t have to think about? If I tell you not to panic you can’t panic, am I not correct?”

“No, no – you’re – No, you’re correct. Always. You are. But I –”                                                                                         

Hongbin presses a hand in the small of Sanghyuk’s back and presses the boy to him. “You don’t have to think. I’m doing the thinking now.”

Sanghyuk makes a small noise, a desperate one like he’s wounded. “Okay. Please. Okay? Please. Please. You have to think for me. Don’t let me think. I can’t –”

“I am, I am,” Hongbin shushes and pulls Sanghyuk in. “All you need to do is breathe. Let me worry about it for you.”

Sanghyuk lets his head drop into Hongbin’s neck after a brief hesitation and shivers there, breath stuttered. He uses the back of his free hand to gently press into Hongbin’s thigh, probably more daring than he has the right to be, letting his other hand be held in a tight grip.

“You’re being so good right now, you don’t need to be hurt. I know you’re going all over the place now, but you don’t have to be hurt, okay? You’ve been such a good boy. If you hold on to me like this, I swear, I won’t let anything get past me to you.” Hongbin soothes. “What’s your color right now?”

Sanghyuk makes a small muffled sound into his neck, like he’s confused and can’t remember what Hongbin is asking. Hongbin can feel the strain in Sanghyuk’s forehead as he tries to focus. 

“Need you to reply me, okay? If not I can’t continue. I need to know you’re here.”         

Sanghyuk gasps like he’s doused in cold water. “No – I’m okay. I need – Green. I’m green. Please. Don't –”

“Okay, I got you, I got you.” Hongbin keeps the pressure on Sanghyuk’s back steady. “I got you.”

“You got me?” Sanghyuk can feel the black stain in his head slowly retreating, fading like someone is rubbing away at it with a soft hand. “You got me, you got me. Thanks, thank you –”

“You don’t have to say anything okay? Do you want to do anything?”                          

It’s obviously the wrong thing to say, because Sanghyuk just buries deeper into the hug, and simultaneously tries to squirm away as well. Choices are humongously hard for Sanghyuk when he's like this.

“Okay, do you want to kneel for me?” Hongbin tries again. “Will that make you feel better?”

Hongbin waits for the nod against his shoulder blade then pulls away briefly without detaching his touch. He grabs two seat covers from the dining table chairs and lightly guides Sanghyuk along, touching his lower elbow. He takes a seat on the couch and places the cushions in front of him, close enough that he can touch Sanghyuk if he leans forwards.

Sanghyuk goes down to his knees and tries to keep his back straight, tries to keep posture, but Hongbin can see the pure voltage going through the boy’s body. Sanghyuk thought it would feel familiar – trained, but comfortable. But there’s something wrong in his body. His fingers tap restlessly where they lay on his thighs, aching to find each other; to peel at skin until he feels something, the way he always does. His knees dig deeper into the floor than he ever remembered, and his shoulders tense instead of relaxing.

Hongbin reaches down to grab Sanghyuk’s hands and everything becomes a little bit better. He massages them carefully and diligently, rubbing them as close to the open wounds on the hands from Sanghyuk’s biting habit as possible. He turns them over and presses thumbs into Sanghyuk’s palm; takes extra care to rub heat on Sanghyuk’s repeatedly-broken, strangely-angled, sometimes-aching fourth finger.

“You can close your eyes, it’s okay,” Hongbin murmurs softly when he realizes Sanghyuk is keeping his eyes on the floor, fluttering shut when Hongbin massages out a sore spot.

Sanghyuk’s face pinks and he actually smiles a shy smile. Hongbin, confident in the knowledge that he’s at least doing one thing right, gets a little bolder. He goes further, massaging Sanghyuk’s still-trembling arms, and moves up to his shoulders. Slowly, he brings his hand up to rub Sanghyuk’s scalp, and Sanghyuk lets out a whine of relief.

“You’re such a good boy, Hyuk-ah,” Hongbin says softly. “I know things have been really hard and difficult, but you’ve been doing very well. Better than I thought you would do. You’re such a good boy. You’ve always been a good boy.”

Sanghyuk hums contentedly, b with praise. He doesn’t linger too long to consider whether the statements are correct. He’s too comfortable in this headspace to want to doubt Hongbin. He tips forward, until his forehead is leaning on Hongbin’s knee. Hongbin still doesn’t scold, doesn’t slap the side of his head like he briefly expected Hongbin to, just lets him lean there, his hair being .

“Minki hyung was really proud of you. You remember who Minki hyung is, right?” Hongbin tries, because he can’t let Sanghyuk go down too far. They still have a full day tomorrow.

“Yeah,” Sanghyuk nods his head carefully. “I know – I remember.”             

“That’s so good, darling,” Hongbin rubs the side of Sanghyuk’s head, behind his ears.

Sanghyuk jerks and pulls away from Hongbin, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, twitching as he tries to remember what made him scared so suddenly in the bottom of his stomach.

“No – Darling. I think. Don’ – Don’ call me that.” Sanghyuk can suddenly hear it in Soojin’s voice, forcing him to do something he doesn’t want to do. “Don’ wanna be called that.”

“Okay, I won’t call you that,” Hongbin soothes. “Thank you for telling me, you’re doing such a good job. You feeling okay?”

Sanghyuk leans his head against Hongbin again, slurring his words. “Green, green. Still green.”

Hongbin uses a free hand to change out the channel. He plays the Miracle in Cell No. 7. The movie always makes Sanghyuk calmer, as long as they skip through the bad parts in the beginning. The ending always makes Hongbin cry so he skips that too. Either way, they’ve watched the middle part of the movie at least 5 times, and Sanghyuk still doesn’t remember ever watching it once.

It takes a good half an hour before Sanghyuk’s eyes come back to the level of present that Hongbin can be relieved to see. He’s not all the way there yet, but it’s enough. It’s enough for Hongbin to lay Sanghyuk down on the floor, and leave to get a pillow and a blanket.

“You can fall asleep if you want to,” Hongbin smiles, and it’s inadequate but it’s all he has. “Nothing can get through me to you right now. I’ll make sure you’re safe, okay?”

Sanghyuk nods and curls into himself tighter. The world is starting to feel trustworthy again – here, next to Hongbin, not kneeling, but still feeling like he’s capable of being taken care of by someone who wants to. He likes Hongbin’s smile. It’s short, and bright, and burns like a flame. After a long while, with the background of a little girl finding her courage, Sanghyuk’s eyes flutter shut.