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Jisung can feel it when he wakes up. It’s like a cold, sizzling feeling, just beneath his skin. His heart is echoing itself, off beat and overwhelmed. What for? Who knows. A dream, probably, one that his memory already rid itself of but his body and mind are still disturbed by. It’s not unusual for him to wake up like this, but it’s been a while since it persisted past eating breakfast, taking his meds, brushing his teeth. It’s around the time he starts getting dressed for practice that he accepts it’s just going to be an anxiety day. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before, he thinks to himself.
Of course, since he can’t remember what he’s anxious about, his brain helpfully supplies some subjects to fill the gaps. He hasn’t been productive enough recently. It’s his turn to do the dishes later, and the slimy feeling always freaks him out. He’s still struggling with lyrics to that one song he thought would come easy to him. He thinks he said something that upset Jeongin yesterday. (Jeongin didn’t say anything about it, but he didn’t laugh at Jisung’s joke about his hair sticking up. What if he was offended? What if he was just silently mad?) He misses Bbama and his parents but is terrible at remembering to call. He can only hope he’ll be able to keep his swirling thoughts under wraps through their schedules until he can hole up in his room for the afternoon.
Thankfully they only have dance practice today. He was hoping to hit the studio with Chan and Changbin later, but he already knows he’ll be too mentally drained to be productive. He’ll just end up getting frustrated with himself and more overwhelmed. He learned that lesson the hard way (with the hard way being Chan sitting him down after multiple torturous sessions that he tried to power through and having a serious talk about not self-destructing for the sake of work, which is rich coming from him, but still came as a bit of a wake up call).
He puts his jacket on before following Changbin and Hyunjin out the door, Chan taking up the rear. The outside air isn’t unbearably cold, but it’s still chilly enough that he’s grateful the van is already warmed up by the time they pile into it. He’s also grateful he remembered to stuff his headphones in his bag this morning, as it allows him to regulate his sensory input for just a little while longer as they drive. It’s going to be a long day.
~
Jisung makes it through the first half of dance practice with minimal trouble. He does catch Felix shooting him concerned glances from time to time, but the freckled boy doesn’t confront him other than giving a reassuring shoulder squeeze once in a while. He’s sure Minho is also keeping a close eye on him. He knows he’s likely being suspiciously quiet today, not joking around with the others like he usually does, but all of his energy is going into using the choreography to distract himself.
As soon as their choreographer calls for a break, though, that thin level of protection he had from his own mind is gone. The organized sound of the music is replaced with disorganized conversation. Hyunjin and Jeongin are goofing off in a way that Jisung would normally laugh at, like Chan and Changbin, or jokingly complain about from the sidelines, like Minho and Seungmin, but right now everything is like nails on a chalkboard to his brain. His specific anxious thoughts are coming back, but they’re starting to overlap and tangle, pulling at each other and making a mess. He looks around to see Felix lying on the floor, blonde hair splayed around his head like a sweaty halo. He’s watching TikToks with earbuds in. He’s peaceful, still. As though he knows he’s being watched, he turns his head to catch Jisung’s eye, gesturing for him to join. Jisung almost wonders if he’s purposely trying to make himself a safe space, since he’s pretty sure Felix has picked up on his anxiety today. He wouldn’t be surprised in the least. He shuffles over, taking his spot beside Felix. He offers Jisung an earbud, which he politely shakes his head to, knowing the rapidly changing audio would likely be overstimulating. Felix doesn’t question it, simply putting the bud back in his own ear and holding the phone so they can both see.
It works to distract him for a bit. He tries to put his brain to work by imagining what song is playing for each dance. Some of them look plain awkward without the music they go with. A shadow falls over his face, and he looks up to see Minho standing over them holding two cups of water. They both sit up and accept the offered drinks with a quiet “thank you, hyung.”
Just as Minho opens his mouth to speak, Hyunjin shrieks at something. Jisung startles. Hard. His cup slips from his hand, and as he frantically tries to catch it, he ends up knocking it in just the right way for it to splash all over him. The empty plastic clatters to the ground. Jisung’s shirt is sticking to him. Changbin is laughing loudly as Hyunjin chases Jeongin around the dance studio. Jisung’s shirt is sticking to him. Sneakers squeak against the floor. Chan yells to be careful. Jisung’s shirt is sticking to him. Someone starts clapping and cheering. Jisung’s shirt is sticking to him.
The anxiety crackles and pops beneath his skin. He stands up too fast, almost losing his balance. Minho catches him, but he stumbles away. He can feel the air running through the hair standing up on his arms. Everything is too much, too loud, too fast. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Felix trot over to the rest of the boys, waving his arms. He’s probably telling them to quiet down, but Jisung can’t hear his low voice over the turbulent crowd in his head.
“Jisung?” He faintly registers Minho calling out to him, hands outstretched, a knowing look in his eyes. He’s seen this before, many times. He knows how to help. Jisung wants to ask him for help.
“I-I-“ his tongue can’t wrap around the words. He curses internally, but it just gets lost in the cacophony of clashing conversations within his head. All his thoughts are flying by too fast, his mouth unable to catch any of them to direct them out. He’s frustrated enough to feel like crying, but the tears are stuck inside too. It’s as though his being is trying to go in too many directions at once and so he just-
Freezes.
~
Minho can see when Jisung starts to shut down. If he’s honest, he had a feeling this was coming based on how quiet he was today, but he didn’t want to step in unless Jisung needed or asked him to. Sometimes the boy is able to work through these days himself, and Minho knows he doesn’t like feeling pitied. Now, though, his shoulders are practically at his ears. His breathing is slightly faster and shallower than normal, but not enough to be noticeable unless one was to look closely. His hands are held up in front of his chest, their position slightly loose yet simultaneously stiffly locked in place, as though he was caught in Medusa’s gaze and fruitlessly tried to defend himself. His eyes go from frantically searching the room (for what? Honestly, Jisung probably doesn’t even know) to staring blankly ahead, unfocused and unseeing. His gaze falls slightly to the left of Minho’s head, so he steps over to be directly in front of him before getting closer, trying to fill Jisung’s field of view a little more. He knows the less uncontrolled sensory input he gets, the better.
“Jagi,” he calls, softly, “can I touch you?”
At this point, Jeongin and Hyunjin have quieted down. They, along with Seungmin and Changbin, are talking quietly in the corner, realizing crowding Jisung isn’t going to help. Every once in a while, Minho catches a worried glance in their direction. Felix stands behind Jisung, discreetly observing. Minho knows he’s waiting for some indication of what he can do to help. Chan has stepped off to the side, glued to his phone, surely communicating with the staff about cutting practice short and arranging for cars to pick them up early. As much as he hates to see Jisung like this, it does warm his heart to see his team so in tune with each other, working to make sure Jisung is safe, taken care of, and getting what he needs, even if what he needs is for them to shut up and sit down.
A few seconds pass, then Jisung gives a slight, albeit somewhat jerky, nod. Minho reaches out to gather up his hands and bring them to his own chest, stepping even closer.
“Can you look at me?” He waits again. Jisung blinks, two, three, four times. Minho is patient, knowing that despite the seeming simplicity of the request, this is taking a monumental effort from the boy in front of him. He continues to hold the backs of Jisung’s hands to his chest, hoping that feeling his heartbeat can help center him. After a minute or so, he can see those lost brown eyes start to focus, pupils widening and narrowing almost imperceptibly. They finally lock onto Minho’s own, and he feels as Jisung squeezes his hands weakly.
“There you are.” He murmurs, offering a warm smile. Jisung’s expression doesn’t change, but that’s okay. This is still progress.
Slowly, expecting Jisung’s motor function to likely be somewhat impaired, Minho begins to guide them both over to the couch. He’s right, and Jisung stumbles a bit, but Felix is instantly at his side, one hand in the crook of his elbow and the other on his shoulder. Together, they gently set him down, taking seats on either side of him. Minho notices his fists opening and closing, so he takes one of his hands, motioning for Felix to take the other. Jisung grips them tightly. His mouth is opening and closing; Minho can tell he wants to say something. Jisung described it to him once, how it feels like all of the words in his brain are trying to come out at once so they get stuck in his throat.
“Jisung, love,” he starts quietly, “can you hear me? Squeeze my hand.”
Jisung’s mouth closes again, and after a moment, Minho feels his grip loosen before squeezing briefly.
“Good job, baby,” he praises. He keeps his voice low and even, calm water to the crashing waves he knows Jisung’s thoughts are. “I’m going to ask you some yes or no questions, okay?” Jisung squeezes again. “Do you want a change of clothes?” Squeeze.
Minho turns to the four less occupied members, finding them already looking back at him. “Iyen-ah, can you get me Jisung’s bag?” The maknae quickly complies, scurrying over to the pile of bags against the wall before plucking one out and carefully approaching the trio on the couch. Minho thanks him quietly, bending over to unzip it without letting go of Jisung’s hand. He rummages around until he finds what he’s looking for, a black tank top and a towel.
He peers around Jeongin at the remaining three. “Changbin, can you stand over here, please?” He gestures to the spot next to Jeongin. Once there, the two are blocking Jisung from the rest of the room. Even though they’ve all seen each other change before, Minho figures it’ll be less overwhelming for Jisung to undress if he feels somewhat protected.
Turning his attention back to the boy beside him, Minho observes how Jisung has begun to shiver slightly.
“Can I take your shirt off now?” Squeeze. “Yongbok and I are going to have to let go of your hands for this, okay?” Squeeze. Minho makes quick work of getting him changed, narrating as he does so.
“I need you to lift your arms so I can take this off.”
“Yongbok is going to dry you with the towel.”
“I’m going to reach over you to put your dry shirt on.”
Jisung lets himself be manipulated without contest and follows along with Minho’s commands when he gives them. As he’s helping the younger put on his tank top, he notes that his skin is warm to the touch, even though he’s still shivering slightly. Minho remembers reading about how anxiety attacks can cause hot and cold flashes, so he hesitates before making his next move. He takes Jisung’s hand again.
“Do you want my sweatshirt?” He waits for a few moments. Slowly, Jisung shakes his head. That’s progress, Minho thinks to himself. “Are you hot?” Squeeze, along with a sluggish nod. “Okay, jagi, thank you, you’re doing so well.”
~
Jisung feels like he’s surrounded by fog. Every movement he makes is slow, encumbered. It’s taking all of his energy to focus on Minho’s words. Once he’s changed into a dry shirt, it becomes a little easier. Minho lets him know he’s going to talk to Chan, but that he’ll be right back. Jisung squeezes before letting him go. He feels Felix’s small hands take both of his in Minho’s place and tries to fixate on the weight of them. He squeezes, attempting to send unspoken messages through the touch. Thank you. You’re helping. I love you. His best friend squeezes back. I’m here. You’re safe. I love you too. The pressure helps Jisung un-tense the slightest bit. The knot in his brain loosens, a few strings fall free. He feels like he’s slowly coming back to himself. Minho reappears, leaning into Jisung’s space.
“Chan says the cars are almost here. We’re going to head downstairs now.” Jisung nods to communicate that he’s understood. Suddenly, everyone around them is packing up to leave, but the bustling isn’t as overwhelming as it was before.
Seungmin pops up next to him holding his jacket, which Jisung accepts with a quietly stuttered “thank…thank you.” The younger boy smiles at him. It’s one of those soft smiles that’s rare to see from Seungmin. As scheming as he usually is, he’s also quite caring and emotionally intelligent. Jisung manages a weak smile back.
Minho helps him put on his jacket, pulling his hood up and zipping him in. It helps to muffle the sounds around him and gives him a bit of tactile security. Suddenly, all he wants is to be held tightly. He needs the pressure to keep his physical form from falling to pieces. As Minho puts his own jacket on, Jisung reaches out and tugs on his sleeve. Minho instantly turns to him, attentive eyes searching his face.
“What is it, love?”
“I-“ Jisung stutters again, but his determination is stronger this time. Minho waits patiently for him to form his words. “H-hug?”
“You want to be hugged?” Minho clarifies, clearly needing to know he’s understood correctly before making a move. Jisung nods, and in a split second he’s being gathered up into strong arms and squeezed. The knot inside loosens a little more, the tightness in his chest starting to release, and he takes a shuddering breath. He feels another person join the embrace from behind, then another, and another, until there are seven of the most important people in his life surrounding him and doing their best to hold him together. Despite how tightly he’s being compressed, Jisung can finally breathe. He’s still jittery, and he knows he likely will be for the rest of the day as his brain chemicals re-regulate, but the panic that had gripped him is slowly letting go.
Someone’s phone pings, and Chan peels himself away to check it. “Cars are here,” he announces as the rest of the members begin to disentangle themselves from the hug. Jisung turns around to see that it was Hyunjin who was the first to join. The taller male reaches out for his shoulder and pulls him into another hug, face to face this time.
“You ready to go home?” Hyunjin murmurs into his ear. Jisung nods and allows himself to be guided to the door. He sees that everyone has their bags, with Chan carrying both Jisung’s and his own. Felix and Minho once again take a hand each and together the eight of them make for the elevator. The ride down is always a little cramped, but Jisung likes it that way. He doesn’t mind being crowded if it’s by people he loves and trusts to take care of him. They’re going to make sure he’s okay.
He’s going to be okay.