Burnout ⊗ Jeongchan

⑤② Home

Forwarning: Mentions of self harm from the previous chapters.

He rolled over again, legs tangling in the cold bedsheets lapping his sore muscles, the darkness of the room easing bits of his throbbing head. With every passing second, the bed felt more and more awkward. Too hot, too stiff, too brisk, too soft. As the midnight sun ticked closer to dawn and erased the time he had to rest, the longer he tried to relax, the more agitated Jeongin became.

With a huff, he flipped on his back and gaped at the ceiling far above him. Trying to find a comfortable spot once more, Jeongin wiggled around only to find himself settling in a deeper pit of irritation that scratched at his already puffy eyes. He tried his side, then his other side, he settled on his stomach, before rolling back on his spine to stare at the same spot for however many seconds passed. His leg propped itself up and began bouncing as he tried to mimic a pillow with his arm, and again not being able to sate the disquiet in his muscles. Nor in his mind. In an attempt to muffle it out, he threw an arm over his eyes and hid behind his elbow, try to pressure his exhausted body to cooperate and slip into a sleep that never came.

A quiet hiss escaped his lips as he kicked the bedsheets off himself and threw his legs over the edge of the bed, feet thumping quietly on the chilly floors as he stood from the bed and began to shuffle aimlessly around the room. Internally, debating whether or not to leave the room. It wouldn't be that hard to, just open the door and exit. Nothing was stopping him. Yet he hesitated, stepped back, shuffled around the room for a bit longer, returned to the door, placed his hand on the door knob, then repeated the cycle. Going in circles, he kept looping back.

Even if he regretted his decision in the end, he twisted the door knob open.

The living room expanded before him, and the bedroom door shut gently behind him. The only bit of light he was given was the city nightlights that dusted like stars inside the room, reflecting, dancing, an artificial glow to guide his unsure steps forward bit by bit. There was a vague aura within the home. It stretched, reaching everywhere it possibly could with it's trembling touch. Whatever it was, it felt lonely. Like one half of a broken heart, vacant as it waited for the other side to occupy it's gaps, try to make sense of the shattered mess, and start again.

Jeongin shuffled to the couch, hands fiddling with each other as he approached the furniture. More specifically, the one laying on it. His head dangled lightly over the edge of the arm rest, giving the younger just enough clearance to see parts of his face. A vibrant hue illuminated the older's features as he scrolled on his phone, eyes flickering back and forth across the screen. He looked to be reading whatever he could find to pass the time without much noise. Looking at him when he was like this; Unguarded, unaware, yet somehow still conscious of the word around him, there was something strange about it. The same sort of feeling Jeongin had whenever he woke up before his friends when he stayed over at their house.

When he was practically next to the couch, Chan's head snapped in the younger's direction. He didn't say anything, didn't try to initiate anything, nor even quirk an eyebrow in his general direction, simply kept his eyes trained on his form in the dark.

Jeongin shifted on his feet, knuckles pressing together as he muttered, "I can't sleep."

The older stared at him for a few beats before shuffling over on the couch, silently inviting the younger to lay down with him. Almost happily, Jeongin flopped down on the couch to be sandwiched between Chan and the furniture, curling himself up as he tried to press closer to the back cushions but refusing to face the other person with him. He could almost hear the grunts of displeasure behind him as Chan moved around to not fall off the edge of the couch, but, never protested or vocalized the fact half of him was most likely suspended in the air. He simply went back to scrolling on his phone, arm pressed between Jeongin's shoulder blades, a reminder that he was there regardless of if the younger wanted him to be or not.