THESE DAYS | jeongchan

cinq

The dorm hallways were painfully dark, Jeongin isn't used to the walls being void of the dim yellow light that flickered pathetically out of the old light fixtures all hours of the day.

And only when the door clicked behind him was he reminded that he was in control of his own body.

Chan's hand clasped his own with such strength and intensity that Jeongin was worried he would feel the sweat that was already clamming his palms.

Maybe he shivered, maybe he made a silent prayer to whatever god would listen to him over the sounds of his own beating heart, but Chan was smiling, eyes shining ever brightly.

He was still warm, however it wasn't as inviting as before because he was already breaking into a cold sweat before he could even move from the doorway.

The older takes a look at the shaking boy, eyes locking with his to create some comfort, familiarity.

A gentle squeeze, a pulse on his hand is grasping Jeongin's thoughts from the back of his head, trying to get him to return from the place he was floating in.

And Chan's warm whisper finalizes his return to reality,

"Relax, Jeongin."

With a look into the Aussie's eyes, he's grounded, a familiar sight (whether they were usually seen during an argument or not), and the pulse of Chan's hand in his.

Chan leans over at the sight of Jeongin nodding, breath uncomfortably hot against his ear as he already feels like he's burning alive, "The last door on the left before the stairs is the hall monitor's room."

Jeongin's eyes trail to look at the cracked door slowly, surely the teacher was asleep by now, there was no way he would see them cross by.

"He's a light sleeper, but as long as we make as little noise as possible, we'll be fine."

The younger pushes the bile down in his throat at the thought of Mr. Sung waking up and possibly getting them expelled—that was absolutely terrifying.

Chan can obviously see the younger is physically irritable, he can also feel the shake of his hand and the sweat of his palm, but he's still there, providing a comforting smile.

It was something so out of character for Chan.

Amazingly it was as if he had turned into a caring and selfless person overnight, constantly checking in on his feelings both verbally and with soft touches, not to mention this whole "mission" Chan had for them where Jeongin was going to do some self discovering—or whatever it is he was going on about.

Jeongin couldn't help but be skeptical of his words, every other teenager was living the same life as him (at least he thought), so why did he pick him out of everyone? Why was he special?

Chan looks down at their clasped hands, seeming to be making a decision before he intertwines their fingers without hesitation, surely just for stability.

With the adjustment of their hands, Chan begins to make his way down the hallway, seemingly brisk for someone who should be sneaking around, Jeongin finding himself actually having to keep up.

Chan stays close to the wall, trying to avoid the possibility of being seen through the open door while Jeongin walks unevenly behind him.

The nervousness filled his head and made him tingly all over, skin becoming itchy and all too aware of its surroundings and location. His stomach twists and holds an empty pit where his organs should be.

In this the only thing of comfort is Chan's hand in his and his strained and crouching figure in front of him.

He wasn't alone.