Limbo

But the Car's Outside

Sorry, I'm late updating once again. I'm trying though! And I am working on my other stories right now too - I'm just really behind on all of them. Expect an update for one of the other books soon :D

Minho dissociates again in this chapter but it's not as bad and definitely not as vivid as before. Also, I do not apologize for forehead kisses, they are my weakness. 

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"Minho. Hyung. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry." Han blurted, pressing his sleeve to his nose to try to hide the blood, but it didn't matter anymore. The single drop of crimson had created a ripple in the dancer's mind, and that ripple grew until the entirety of Minho's world was churning and whirling around like a storm. It didn't matter whether Han hid the blood now or not, it had done its damage and there was no reversing the consequences. 

Minho scooted backwards, eyes wide and terrified as he pressed himself into the far corner of the room, curling up against the walls with his knees to his chest and head bowed in the same position he'd been in last night in the shower. The memory was too fresh, searing a painful image in Han's mind. Burning like the blood dripping from his nostrils and staining his memory just like crimson on his sweatshirt. He sniffled, the harsh metallic scent making him dizzy. He needed help. He couldn't do this alone. He was making things worse for Minho. 

He was making things worse...

Now blood wasn't the only thing dripping down the rapper's face as he fumbled around for his phone and pressed the first number he could find on his contacts. He didn't care who it was so long as they didn't have blood actively flowing like a waterfall from their nose. And this damn nosebleed was giving him a headache as well. But that was an issue for another time. 

"Sung?" Changbin's voice filtered through the phone, quiet, since Han hadn't thought to press speaker phone. "How's composing going?" The elder added and somewhere in the background some said, "how's Minho hyung doing?".

"Hyung." Han whispered, finally pulling the phone up to his ear. "I- I need help." 

"Sure thing." Changbin said, far too happily. He didn't understand the situation. Everything was supposed to be okay. Han told Chan it would be okay. He'd promised. He'd... he'd failed. He was vaguely aware of Changbin blabbering about how he deals with writer's block - assuming that's what Han meant by the fact that he needed help - but it went eerily silent when a halfhearted sob escaped Han's lips. "Sungie?" Changbin asked several seconds later. 

"Hyung, I need help." He repeated, voice tight and monotone. If he added any inflection then the waver might turn into a tremble and that tremble would cause an earthquake, resulting in a landslide of tears, sobs, and emotions he was too wound up to let release like a volcano. 

Now when Changbin said "sure thing" it held a lot more gravity to it and it wasn't followed by a string of tips and tricks on how to compose. Instead, the rapper's voice gently added, "Channie and I are on our way right now. Is that okay?" 

"Yeah, uh, Minho hyung is... I messed up... it was an accident... hyung, I didn't mean to scare him. I promise- hyung, I swear I didn't mean to..." 

"Okay. Take a deep breath, Sung, we're at the elevator." Changbin responded as calmly as possible though several years of knowing him, Han could hear the panic in his tone - easily masked but with a friendship as close as theirs, it was also easy to detect. 

"What's happening." Han could hear Chan say on the other side of the line. There was no response that he could hear so he assumed Changbin just shrugged at the leader. 

Han clicked speaker phone now and set the device on the couch, standing awkwardly in the center of the room while Minho curled up against the wall, eyes squeezed tightly shut and hands clasped over his ears. He was afraid to touch him. He was beautiful like a stained-glass window, but oh so fragile and delicate, one wrong touch and he'd shatter in a kaleidoscope of light and color, shimmering as his fragile heart broke once again and splintered open on the floor. Minho couldn't take one more wrong move. Han couldn't risk being the one to do the damage. It was terrifyingly silent between them. Minho's gasping pants and Han's occasional sniffles being the only thing to break the eerie silence.