Burnout ⊗ Jeongchan

③③ Erythrophobia

Fingers carded through his hair.

Jeongin could feel the delicate touch teasing his scalp; the small and almost unnoticeable gesture as comforting as the blankets keeping him safe from the monsters that lurked outside the barrier. That included the intrusive sun shining through the window of the bedroom, which usually would be welcomed. On any other day he would want the warmth. But seeing as how the voracious glow was nearly burning the back of his eyelids without remorse, that affectionate coziness it usually gave turned annoying when it jostled him from his daze. With a huff, his nose scrunched up and he rolled over in the unfamiliar bed, flopping like a fish out of water to settle in his spot.

"Did I wake you?" The older mumbled, hand coming to rest on the younger's head rather than continue to make roads between the strands of hair.

Jeongin wordlessly shook his head 'no' as he curled further into the older, cheek brushing across the latter's chest until he was comfortable enough to relax. He began playing with the fabric Chan's shirt, distracting himself with the buttons. With a quiet hum, he mused, "What time is it?"

"Sometime in the afternoon," Chan guessed as he glanced out the window, "Four, maybe? You've been on and off sleeping all day."

It was strange. Besides their few interactions and more than intimate exchanges on the off occasion, he couldn't recall how many times they'd been this close without wanting something more. He could hear everything. Chan's breathing was steady, like the gentle rise and fall of an empire all inside his lungs, like a lullaby lulling Jeongin back to sleep in the warmth of his touch. His heart throbbed as faintly as the sting of the younger's bruise, as quietly as the phone buzzing on his nightstand. It felt strange but as Jeongin forced himself to melt into the touch, knowing beyond all else there was nothing more to this, the touch felt welcomed. Cozy.

As he sighed, a faint thought crossed his mind.

To know that he found someone, somewhere, that cared no matter how small it might be; to be held like he was a glass vase on the verge of shattering but treated like he was maybe worth more than that. A hundred dollar bill. If that was him, rather than that molded penny stomped into the crack of a sidewalk,

I don't want to let this go.

Jeongin tightened his grip on the older's shirt and hoped, from the deepest trenches of his heart, that he would be able to stay like this for a little longer. Even if it was for a few minutes; I want to remember what this is like.

A short moment but; it was his. No one else's. It was just them.

The fingers threaded and weaved themselves in his hair. The chills that shot through his spine with every touch would almost be enough to toss him back to a deep slumber, if not for the owner of those eyes burning holes into the back of his head. Before the younger could break their delicate silence and ask what was on his mind to cause him to glare, the older shattered it;

"Dye your hair."

Furrowing his eyebrows, Jeongin lifted himself from Chan's chest to peak at him. It didn't feel like a suggestion, rather the flatness of his tone was borderline demanding. Not in the same way his mother would demand him of a task, but equally commanding. For different reasons; the first, out of fear. But this? He couldn't relate it back to what he was familiar with, just that it made him uneasy while it tugged a bit closer to the edge; Jeongin pressed his lips into a thin line, "Why?"

"It's a bold decision," The older's eyes were more focused on the tuffs of hair he lightly played and tugged on, "You'll stand out."

"That's what I've been trying to avoid though," Jeongin insisted. He chewed on the inside of his lip, the gesture continuing unnoticeable but strong. Or, at least until Chan's gaze flickered down to his lips and Jeongin was made consciously aware of the fact he wouldn't be able to hide the nervous jitters and soothing demure habits he clung to, or the fibs he used to build his protective shell. This particular moment slotted into the latter category.