Butterfly Effect

“I don’t think Jeno likes that very much,” Donghyuck tells him one night, examining his nails with a frown, “He always looks uncomfortable.”

It’s Donghyuck, which Jaemin knows means very little in the grand scheme of things, because Donghyuck likes to talk out his ass and cause unnecessary chaos, but he still bites out of curiosity.

“Doesn’t like what?”

“How much you touch him? Or kiss him. Almost like you like him.” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow, like he can’t believe Jaemin has to ask, before a shit-eating grin breaks out on his face and he leans across the table, “Oh, I see. You do like him, don’t you?”

Jaemin sputters, “What? No. Shut up.”

“You do~”

“Donghyuck,” Jaemin slaps a hand over the older boy’s mouth, “Shut. Up. I don’t like Jeno, okay? Get your head out of your ass.” He yanks his hand away with a shriek when he feels a wet tongue glide across his palm, pulling away and glaring at Donghyuck with all the heat he could muster. 

“So, you like Jeno,” Donghyuck sings-songs anyway, “And that’s why you’re always touching him—”

“I touch Jisung a lot too—”

“—But not like you do Jeno,” he argues, cutting Jaemin off, “You touch Jeno like you want to choke on his dick.”

“Donghyuck!”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Donghyuck finally concedes, “Fine. You don’t like him, whatever, but you sure do touch him a lot for not wanting to choke on his dick.”

Jaemin feels his face light up, red-hot with embarrassment as Donghyuck’s words finally sink in.

“Told you,” Donghyuck gives him the most self-satisfied smirk Jaemin’s ever seen on him, “You’re always hanging off of him. Always trying to kiss him. Laying in his lap,” he continues to list, each one causing Jaemin’s shoulders to raise higher and higher, until they’re nearly parallel to his ears, “You kiss him, he pulls away, you try to kiss him again. If you succeed, he rubs your germs off his face. It’s a constant cycle with you two, and honestly, I’m sick of watching.”

Jeno doesn’t like when you touch him.

Jaemin tries to forget about it. Donghyuck likes to make messes of situations he’s not involved in, because he’s a piece of shit and thrives off of drama. Jaemin knows this.

Jeno never complained when Jaemin clung to him before, like a scared child unwilling to separate from their parent, even seeking him out a fairly large portion of the time. That was the strangest part in Jaemin’s eyes, the part that kept causing him to go back and run Donghyuck’s words through his head. 

Never once has he noticed Jeno being uncomfortable with the amount of skinship Jaemin initiates, in fact, Jeno was nearly as bad sometimes. So maybe it really was Donghyuck being a headass, or maybe what he said was right, and Jaemin was just blinded by his own desires. Maybe Jeno really didn’t like how much Jaemin clung to him.

Suddenly, the thought of Jeno pushing his arms away the other day, when Jaemin tried to hug him, pops into his head. He figured it was just because they were both hot and sweaty from dance practice, but now he’s not too sure. Jeno’s face had seemed a little more exasperated than normal.

Worse than that, Jaemin can’t seem to stop thinking about Donghyuck’s discovery (and Jaemin’s own revelation, in turn) of his desire of ‘choking on Jeno’s dick’—or even just holding his hand. Jaemin isn’t really picky.

But the last thing he wants to do is make Jeno uncomfortable around him, so Jaemin decides to back off a bit. Just enough that Jeno wouldn’t notice, and if he seems happier, Jaemin will stop entirely.

He doesn’t want to. He likes touching Jeno, and he likes when Jeno touches him. When Jeno’s big, warm hands rub over his back after practice, when he knows Jaemin is in pain and even the smallest of movements hurt. He likes when Jeno throws a leg over Jaemin’s, the weight comfortable and cozy.

Jaemin likes Jeno. 

Jaemin likes touching Jeno.

But it doesn’t really matter, if Jeno truly finds Jaemin’s tactile nature overbearing, then Jaemin will try to stop. He’ll be better. 

Besides, maybe this will help him too, in the long run. This is the perfect opportunity for him to squash his little crush on the older boy. A crush that will, inevitably, end up getting in the way and causing distractions, maybe even lead to heartbreak if he’s not careful enough. He’ll just nip it in the bud before it even has the chance to take root.

He shouldn’t even miss it too much, right? Not when he has a Renjun to terrorize, or a Jisung to dote after. Jaemin will just use this opportunity to pile his love on the maknaes, maybe even hang out with Jaehyun or Johnny, seeing as he barely ever gets to see them these days. 

Jaemin figures he’s going to end up with more alone time than before, if he’s not going to be constantly glued to Jeno’s side like a leech—You know, maybe Donghyuck was right. Maybe Jaemin really is too clingy.

That’s fine, he doesn’t mind being known as the clingy one. It’s just another thing he has to work on to improve about himself. 

That’s fine.

He can do it. He can make it better.

The first thing to stop is the kisses.

Jaemin makes a point to avoid looking at Jeno, because when he looks at Jeno, he gets the innate desire to purse his lips and press them against Jeno’s cheeks, which he now knows he doesn’t like. So Jaemin doesn’t do it, and it’s fine.

He doesn’t kiss Jeno’s cheek anymore. Or the back of his hands. Or his fingers. Or that spot behind his ear when Jaemin backhugs him. In fact, Jaemin doesn’t really backhug him now. 

Jeno doesn’t seem to notice that Jaemin doesn’t chase him around during shoots, with makeup-sticky lips and the desire to leave glossy marks all over his face when they’re finishing up. Jeno doesn’t notice, and Jaemin tries to remind himself that that’s a good thing. He didn’t want Jeno to notice.

So, he guesses everything is going fine. Chenle only complains once about how annoying Jaemin is being, but even that one time is enough to make Jaemin think about backing off with Chenle too.

Maybe—

Maybe it wasn’t just Jeno? Maybe Jaemin was really just…too clingy?

He’s always liked being around Jeno, even more than the other members of Dream. He’d never admit it to their faces, but Jaemin’s sure that he wouldn’t have to. He was never very discreet about it.

Jeno just…Being around Jeno has always made Jaemin feel at ease. He was almost always at Jaemin’s side, and it seems that’s something he’s grown to rely on—Jeno’s smile could brighten up his day in seconds, and now that Jaemin doesn’t have that, everything feels a little bit dimmer.

What Jeno made Jaemin feel was different, something he never thought to question because it was just how he’s always felt with Jeno. Warm and safe.

Jaemin had something good—something great—but he got greedy, and began asking for too much. Of course, he wants more, but Jaemin isn’t willing to sacrifice Jeno’s comfort for his own selfish wants. The thing with Jeno, though, is that he’s perceptive. He can tell something is wrong with someone just by looking at them, and Jaemin was no exception—if anything, he was Jeno’s easiest target. Which had always been something Jaemin took comfort in, knowing he could always go to Jeno when he wasn’t feeling the best, and Jeno would always catch him before he falls.

It makes being apart from Jeno so much harder than Jaemin would have ever thought. He feels vulnerable without Jeno there to hold his hand, or wrap an arm around his waist, and that was a problem. Jaemin doesn't know what it is, but the lack of Jeno’s hands on his body makes him feel off-center, like he lost the one thing that kept him grounded.

It was scary—how much Jaemin relies on Jeno—and dangerous. Something that Jaemin can’t let get more serious than it already was, when even something as simple as Jeno interlocking their fingers would send tiny shockwaves through Jaemin’s body. It wasn’t something Jaemin directly pinpointed as a Jeno-thing until recently, he had always just assumed it was normal.

It’s not. It’s not normal for his body to react the way it does at the simplest of touches. Jaemin shouldn’t crave contact in the way he does, shouldn’t feel the need to seek it out during all hours of the day, shouldn’t feel shivers running down his spine when Jeno’s fingers ghost over his neck. 

It wasn’t just Jeno, either. Jaemin feels it, to some degree, with all of them, but never as strongly as he did with Jeno. He doesn’t know how to describe it, but there was always something more in the way Jeno touched him, and Jaemin still can’t quite explain it. He doesn’t think he ever will.

He makes it a point to avoid Jeno as much as he possibly can, which sounds ridiculous, considering they spend nearly the whole day within a few meters of one another, but Jaemin manages. Keeping as much physical distance between himself and Jeno is constantly on his mind, weighing on his conscience. Jeno knows something is up, Jaemin is sure of that, since he seems to trail after Jaemin during schedules, which only makes it harder for Jaemin to scramble to make up some unintelligible excuse before he scurries away.

Jaemin almost loses all progress he made when Jeno corners him one night after a schedule—interviews are trickier, but Jaemin is good at putting on a smile and pretending that nothing’s wrong—but he tells Jeno that he has a headache and needs to sleep it off, trying to ignore the dejected look in Jeno’s eyes when he watches Jaemin walk away.

Jaemin wakes up to the sound of bacon sizzling, a familiar sound, but one Jaemin is used to being the cause of. It still causes him to eagerly jump from his bed, pausing briefly to consider waking Jisung, but ultimately deciding to wait to let the maknae sleep, at least until Jaemin has finished helping out whoever was in the kitchen.

He does, however, take a picture of Jisung, with his face smushed against the pillow and drool turning the corner of his lips shiny. That’ll be used as blackmail for future endeavors.

Jaemin barely manages to stop himself from falling as he skids into the kitchen. He feels good today. Today feels like it's going to be good. His back doesn’t hurt, they only have a 4-hour dance practice today, and he’s going to hang out with Jaehyun and Jungwoo after. 

It’s going to be a good day.

He sees Renjun in the kitchen, in front of the frying pan sizzling on the stovetop, and Jaemin pitter-patters up behind him to wind his arms around the eldest’s waist.

The shorter boy jumps, the pan jerking in his hand and just narrowly missing his arm with the oil that splashes out. “Jaemin!” Renjun snaps, elbowing Jaemin away from him, “Be careful. Don’t do stupid stuff like that when I’m trying to cook,” he huffs, glaring at Jaemin through his bangs.

“S-Sorry, Jun,” Jaemin stutters out with a forced grin, “I won’t do it again.”

“Just—” Renjun closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh, “Can you get the eggs started? You’re better at it than I am, anyway.”

And then it’s forgotten, just like that, as Jaemin cracks 3 eggs into the pan. Normally, standing this close to someone while cooking over one stove, Jaemin wouldn’t hesitate to press against the other person’s side, lean on their shoulder as they cook, but maybe he shouldn’t do that.

Jaemin makes sure to keep a few inches between his and Renjun’s arms at all times.

He ends up burning the eggs.

Jaemin forgets about it. He does. 

He forgets about it throughout dance practice, doesn’t think about it while they’re running through the choreo for Ridin’ for what feels like hours on end.

Jaemin forgets about it.

They opt to walk back to the dorms after. Jisung runs off ahead with Donghyuck, who was actually at this practice today, yelling about how it was his turn to shower first, even though Jaemin was fairly certain Jisung had played that same card last time.

He thinks about running ahead after them but chooses instead to stay back with Renjun, Jeno, and Chenle as he listens to the conversation between them. Well, ‘listen’ was being generous. Jaemin couldn’t really tell you too many details of their conversation, considering he had kind of just spaced out the entire walk to their dorms.

Jisung is already in the shower by the time they make it inside, if the deep voice resonating from the bathroom is anything to go by, so Jaemin assumes Donghyuck had gone to sulk in the 127 dorms instead. 

“I’m showering after Jisung,” he says, going straight to his room to drop his bag to the floor, right next to the maknae’s own.

He feels. Off. He doesn’t know why, but something just doesn’t feel right.

His skin itches. His chest feels tight. Jaemin wonders if he could be having an allergic reaction to something. Maybe his skin would break out in hives within the next few minutes.

Jaemin blinks back tears as he takes out his phone, sending Jaehyun a message asking to reschedule their coffee date for another time, knowing that any caffeine was sure to make his heart feel like it was trying to beat out of his chest.

Jaehyun sends him back a single thumbs-up and two green hearts. Jaemin manages a smile.

He just needs to sleep, he decides, so he gets his pajamas ready in an effort to get in and out of the shower as fast as possible. Any other day, Jaemin would just forgo the shower and hop right into bed, but the sweat drying on his skin was growing more uncomfortable by the second. Maybe that’s what was making his skin itch.

He just needs to shower and sleep.

Jisung waddles into the room with his dirty practice clothes bunched up in his arms. Jaemin’s hand itches to reach out and ruffle his still-wet hair, but he can already hear Jisung’s huff of ‘hyuuuuung, don’t do that,’ so he doesn’t. His shoulder barely grazes Jisung’s as he walks out of the room. Jaemin’s skin tingles, he wraps his arms around himself and squeezes, but it does little to stop the static. It’s like scratching a sunburn, he decides. More painful than satisfying, so he turns the water as hot as he can stand it and tries to burn the feeling off of his skin. It doesn’t work, but Jaemin didn’t really expect it to.

By the time he’s out of the shower, Jisung is laying on his bed with his back towards the door, and Jaemin can only assume that he has his headphones in when he doesn’t answer after Jaemin asks if he wants to play games in the living room. Or do anything to tire him out enough to sleep through the static.

No matter. Jaemin can just see if one of the others wants to play, or do anything that will distract him from the electricity running under his skin. He’s worried about seeking out Jeno, even though Jaemin knows that being with Jeno is the fastest way to stop the static, but Jeno’s already had to deal with him for the past few hours of practice, Jaemin doesn’t want to force him to endure any more if he doesn’t have to.

He understands, really, he does. Jaemin can be, well, a lot—especially when the others have to deal with him in longer bursts. He sees why, he sometimes feels the same way with Donghyuck after being around him for several hours, drained and exhausted, but Donghyuck doesn’t live with them. Jaemin does.

He walks into the living room, towards where Chenle is sprawled across the couch with his laptop sitting on a pillow on his stretched legs.

“Whatcha doing?” Jaemin quietly asks, sitting on the arm of the couch, just behind Chenle’s head as he leans over to peer at his screen. Chenle’s hair tickles his arm, but not in a bad way. Not in a way that aggravates the itching under his skin, so he doesn’t move.

He doesn’t get the chance to, really, because Chenle is the one that sits up to scoot away from Jaemin, and he tries not to let the disappointment show on his face as he slides down into the now-vacated position.

Turned towards the younger boy as he is, Jaemin can see Chenle looking at him from the corner of his eye, just for a second before going back to his screen, but it’s enough to make Jaemin’s stomach drop. The expressionless look on Chenle’s face that he can only barely see past, to the thinly veiled agitation, etched into the creases between his eyebrows.

“I have to finish this,” Chenle deadpans, “I don’t really have time, Jaemin, especially not with this comeback.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Jaemin says, not even able to bring himself to scold Chenle for not calling him ‘hyung.’

Chenle didn’t live with them in the dorms, but oftentimes during promotions, he would stay there for ease of collection for schedules and the like. Times such as now, which happened to, unfortunately, fall in line with Chenle’s final exam preparations. 

He has to stop himself from asking Chenle what he’s reading about, or lean closer to read over his shoulder, which he knows Chenle really hates, but he just wants to be close to him. 

Jaemin doesn’t act on it. He sits back as Chenle turns his focus back to his laptop, as if Jaemin wasn’t even there. Chenle isn’t the most talkative, not like Donghyuck, but he’s never so silent. Jaemin has to remind himself that it’s just because he’s busy, and not because he finds Jaemin annoying. It’s fine. Jaemin is content just sitting by his side.

He pulls his knees to his chest, wrapping one arm around his legs as he scrolls through his phone. The first thing he sees is a meme from Taeil, their ‘honorary Dream member,’ and he can’t help but quietly chuckle at the sheer absurdity of Taeil’s attempt at being ‘hip.’

Chenle lets out a sigh as Jaemin is typing his reply, snapping his laptop shut with enough force to make the blue-haired boy look over as he stands up. 

He sounds annoyed. He definitely looks annoyed. At Jaemin.

“Ah, wait,” Jaemin tries to stop him, “Sorry, I’ll—”

Chenle waves him off, collecting his bottle of juice and laptop, “It’s fine. I’ll just go to Renjun-hyung’s room to see how he’s doing on it.”

“Oh, okay,” Jaemin says, trying to press down the disappointment that fills his chest as he watches Chenle leave the room.

Chenle is almost 20. He’s an adult, and Jaemin is an adult. They're adults, and sometimes adults need space. Jaemin can give him space.

Jaemin should give them all space, really. They’re all stressed and tired from the comeback and promotions, not to mention Donghyuck having to promote for 127 at the same time, they don’t have their usual sunshine around to take the edge off. 

Jaemin can be better.

So, the hugs are the next thing to go. Jaemin decides to just save them for celebrations, but they’re not actively promoting right now, so Jaemin doesn’t have too much to celebrate. 

It’s fine. Totally not a problem. Jaemin can last a few days without hugs, right? He wasn’t a child. He wasn’t missing Jisung’s fumbly hugs, or Renjun’s steady hand at the nape of his neck. Jaemin wasn’t missing the aggravating way Donghyuck always crowded into his bubble, like he had no sense of personal space, or just didn’t care about it. He doesn’t miss the way Chenle would press close when they were walking, pinkies brushing against one another before Jaemin finally gets the hint and just holds his hand.

He doesn’t miss Jeno’s warm, sturdy arms. He doesn’t miss Jeno’s feather-light touches as he grazes his fingertips over Jaemin’s face when he thinks the younger boy is asleep.

No, he doesn’t miss any of that.

But sometimes, he forgets. 

Jaemin’s tired. They’re all tired, but Jaemin feels more exhausted than he probably should, all things considering. He hasn’t quite been sleeping as well, these days. His back was starting to bother him again, and Jaemin knows he should tell someone before it gets to the point where he needs to be pulled again, but he thinks he knows his limits, now. 

It hurts, but it’s nowhere near as bad as it did then. Jaemin can handle it. 

“Yah!” Renjun jams a sharp elbow directly into Jaemin’s side, “It’s too hot, and you’ve got more space than I do. I don’t get why you need to be pressed against someone all the damn time.”

Renjun continues to grumble, even after Jaemin scoots closer to the door of the van with a wince. His back was hurting more than usual today, and Renjun wasn’t exactly holding back with that shove. Realistically, Jaemin knew it was his fault the now-eldest was so grouchy. The AC in the van wasn’t working, and Renjun had ended up with the unlucky middle seat in the back, stuck between a sweaty Donghyuck and a sweaty Jaemin. Renjun’s own personal hell.

So, yeah, Jaemin should have known better than to try and lean against Renjun’s side. It was his fault. He’ll just…remember not to, next time.

Better. He’ll be better.

“Wake up.”

Jaemin groans, rolling over to block out the light from the now-open curtains.

“Hey, hyung, wake up,” Jisung grumbles as he presses his hands down on Jaemin’s back, bouncing him on the bed a few times in an attempt to rouse him.

It works, but not in a pleasant way.

Jaemin nearly shouts as the maknae’s hands press against all of the sorest places on his body, pain shooting lighting-sharp up his spine as he lashes an arm out, trying to do everything in his power to make that pain stop before he passes out. The back of his wrist makes contact with something hard, and he can feel it throbbing in sync with his back. It fucking hurts, and Jaemin barely has half a mind to check what he hit before curling onto his side to just breathe through the pain.

He nearly misses Jisung’s cry through his own haze of tears, but he does manage to catch Jisung’s back as he all but sprints out of their room.

Oh. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck. Jaemin hit Jisung. Jaemin just hit Jisung. Jaemin just hit their fucking maknae, who he knows doesn’t react well to physicalities. Fuck. Fuck.  

God, he needs to apologize, like, immediately. It shouldn’t have ever even happened, but Jaemin hadn’t been thinking clearly when all he could feel was the lead-heavy weight against his back, and how every muscle in his body seemed to lock up at that moment.

Fuck.

Jaemin buries his head in his hands, breath rattling about in the room as everything really begins to click into place. His skin crawls at the mere thought of hitting Jisung, that’s just not something he would do. He almost tries to convince himself it had just been a dream, and Jisung wasn’t even in their room to begin with, but then his wrist sends him a sharp reminder that he had just fucking backhanded Jisung for trying to wake him up.

“Jaemin!”

Never has Jaemin felt truly scared of Chenle.

Until now.

“What the hell were you thinking?” The younger boy shouts, eyes wide with disbelief and voice shrill with anger, “Why would you hit Jisung? What in the—What could ever make you want to—”

“I didn’t mean to,” Jaemin tries to weakly argue back, “He woke me up, and—and I wasn’t expecting it. It was an accident—”

“How do you accidentally punch someone in the fucking face?” Chenle nearly screeches, making Jaemin flinch back at the volume, “Jisung’s crying in Renjun’s room right now, his mouth is bleeding, and you’re calling that an accident? You know what happened to him! How could you hit him?!”

Jaemin knows if he just takes the time to explain what happened, how Jisung had unthinkingly forced a flare-up, then maybe Chenle would understand a bit better, but Jaemin can’t really stomach the thought of pinning any of this on the maknae. Jaemin was the hyung, he should know better, and Jisung had done nothing wrong. Jisung, who Jaemin knows struggles with raised voices, and even more with raised hands, and Jaemin had done both.

So, he ducks his head, letting his bangs fall over his eyes as Chenle only huffs in disappointment at Jaemin’s lack of response.

What can he say that he hasn’t already? It was an accident, but that doesn’t matter. Accident or not, Jisung is still crying in Renjun’s room, and it’s Jaemin’s fault.

“You better apologize,” Chenle mutters before walking out the door.

He will. He will apologize, after the pain lessens enough for him to dig his pills from the side pocket of his training bag, where they had been left from yesterday. When his hands had been shaking too much to even unscrew the cap to his water bottle, and Jaemin had been itching to find Jeno and ask for him to work out the knots in his shoulders, just like he always did.

But he couldn’t now—wouldn’t—because Jaemin was trying to be less intrusive. Less selfish.

Jaemin’s fingers tangle in his hair, tugging at the strands to distract from the throbbing that still had yet to cease. It hurts. Enough that the tears that had collected in his eyes when Jisung’s hands made contact with his skin finally spill over, cutting lines down his cheeks as he breathes in a shaky inhale.

He’s fine. He’s fine.

Jaemin’s been told more than once that he has a flair for the dramatics, so maybe that’s all this is. Jaemin, being dramatic.

“Jisung?” Jaemin gently knocks on the door or Renjun’s room, opening the door with the quiet call. He pushes his way through, heart immediately clenching at the sight of Jisung’s lanky frame curled into Renjun’s side.

Renjun, who wasn’t quite glaring, but wasn’t…not glaring, really. 

“I—I came to apologize,” Jaemin pushes on, toeing at the carpet as Renjun extracts himself from Jisung before wordlessly slipping out, but not before giving Jaemin one last pointed look that practically screamed fix this shit.

It doesn’t matter that Jaemin can barely stand up straight without the sharp pains shooting through his back, or the numbness that is already beginning to travel down his arms, making his fingers feel weak and staticky.

“Jisungie,” he starts, but is unable to swallow the lump in his throat when Jisung’s lets out a little, pathetic-sounding sniffle, and Jaemin is reminded that Jisung was crying in Renjun’s room because Jaemin hit him, “I know—I—What I did was really wrong, Jisungie, and I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have—I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I should have been better. I’m your hyung, I should never lay a hand on you like that.”

“It’s okay,” Jisung quietly whispers, looking up at Jaemin with watery eyes, “I shouldn’t have woken you up when you were having a bad dream. Chenle told me once that waking people up during nightmares can be dangerous, I should have listened. You…just looked scared, and I wanted to wake you up so you wouldn’t be scared anymore.”

The confusion Jaemin felt at the beginning of Jisung’s response slowly ebbs away when he realizes what Jisung must have thought. Jaemin wasn’t scared, no. His face was likely scrunched up in pain when Jisung woke him up, but he couldn’t fault the youngest for coming to the conclusion he had.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, simply because he doesn’t know what else he could possibly say to Jisung, when all Jaemin can think is ‘sorry.’

“It’s okay,” Jisung repeats. 

It’s not. It’s not okay, but Jaemin can pretend. He can cover up and he can hide the bad parts of himself, he can sing and he can dance and he can annoy the others on camera, and be fine. Jaemin is a good actor. He’ll be fine. He’ll be fine.

He’s always fine.

Jaemin throws himself down onto the couch after they finally get back from Inkigayo. His back was killing him for the entire performance, even before that. It’s made actually getting any sleep at night very difficult for him. It takes hours for him to find a position that’s comfortable enough for him to finally pass out, only for Jisung to try and avoid waking him up because he’s fucking scared of Jaemin.

His back hurts, and his chest feels strangely tight—which, when combined with the bone-deep ache in his limbs—makes Jaemin want nothing more than to curl up in someone’s arms and sleep until the exhaustion seeps from his body.

It’s been so long since he’s had a fucking hug, and Jaemin feels so stupid for thinking about it in that sense, but it’s been weeks since anyone has actually touched him outside of the view of cameras. 

He’s just. So. Tired.

His eyes open when he hears footsteps, a recently showered Renjun standing in front of him, and Jaemin wonders just how long has passed since they’ve gotten home.

“We’re going out to eat,” Renjun says, and before Jaemin can even manage to say ‘I’m too tired,’ Renjun continues on with, “Jisung has been whining about wanting to go to that American-style hamburger place that just opened, and Jeno got bullied into buying for all of us, so.”

Jaemin nods, closing his eyes as he drops his head back against the coach. He waits for Renjun to invite him anyway, but he never does. He stands there in silence, in front of Jaemin, and Jaemin continues to wait.

And wait. 

Until Renjun finally says, “We’ll be back tonight,” and it finally hits Jaemin that they’re going without him. Renjun was only telling him so he wouldn’t worry and blow up their phones later asking where they were. They didn’t want him to bother them.

“Rejunnie-hyung!” Chenle calls as he shoves his sneakers on at the door, “C’mon! I wanna go to the park before it gets too late, too.”

Renjun scoffs and shakes his head before turning back to Jaemin, “Do you want us to bring you back anything? It might be a bit cold by the time we get back, but I’m sure it’s better than nothing.”

Jaemin can’t bring himself to verbally answer, so he just shakes his head. He doesn’t want to be a bother. He doesn’t want them to have to worry about him.

“Jaemin?” Renjun asks, softly, which makes Jaemin open his eyes to look up at him in question, “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t know why his chest aches at the question. It was just three words. Three words that he’s been asked more times than anything else in his life. 

And the worst part? The worst part is that he doesn’t know.

“Yeah, Jun. I’m just not feeling too well.”

It’s not a lie, and he waits for Renjun to ask him why, or what’s wrong. He waits for Renjun to offer to stay back and take care of him, just like he used to for Jaemin, just like he would still do for any of the others.

“Ah, okay. Feel better. We’ll be back soon.”

They’re not, but by then, Jaemin has already cocooned himself in blankets in bed. The lights are all off, and he never hears Jisung come in, so he could only assume the maknae chose to instead sleep out on the couch in the living room, rather than risk waking Jaemin up.

It’s when Donghyuck, Donghyuck, goes out of his way to avoid Jaemin even brushing shoulders with him, that Jaemin truly understands the extent to which they all must hate touching him.

Donghyuck laughs, and calls out that Jaemin is gross and sweaty, but saunters over to Chenle to wrap the younger boy in a back hug before blowing in his ear and running as the Chinese boy chases after him.

He catches Donghyuck after a few seconds of mindless pursuance, and Jaemin watches them continue to lay against each other after Chenle tackled Donghyuck to the ground. They don’t move. 

Jaemin wants that. He wants that easy-carefree relationship. He wants it so badly it hurts. His skin crawls every time Renjun gets on his tip-toes to fix Jisung’s hair. Every time Donghyuck pulls one of the others around by their wrist before clinging onto their arm.

Jaemin knows he was the one to start it, but he wishes they weren’t so okay with letting him fade into the background. He wishes they wouldn’t swerve out of his way when he passes through a room, or quickly pull their hands away to avoid their fingers brushing his. How they make sure to leave an empty space when sitting beside him on the couch.

Was it always like this? He remembers Renjun grumbling every time Jaemin would lay his head in the older boy’s lap, and Chenle repeatedly reminding Jaemin that ‘he wasn’t a baby, hyung,’ all the times Jaemin would fuss over his health, or Jisung going dead-quiet whenever Jaemin gets too excited about something.

He tries to remember a time when Renjun would affectionately rub his neck, like he did to the maknaes, or when Jeno would wrap his arms around Jaemin’s waist from behind and rest his head on his shoulder. He tries to remember when Chenle would play-wrestle with him, or when Jisung would hold his hand when they watched scary movies in the living room.

He tries to remember how everything had been, before Donghyuck made that one comment that made Jaemin rethink everything.

One stupid, harmless comment had changed everything Jaemin once thought, and he doesn’t know if he can fix it.

Jaemin’s hands are shaking.

His hands are shaking, and Jaemin tries to hide it with the cold coffee in his grasp, but the ice rattles against the plastic of the cup loud enough for it to resonate in his head.

He feels tense, strung up, like a spring that’s been coiled too tight, and the only thing left was for all of that pent up pressure to release. The half hour it had taken for his hair to be done, Jaemin had been in the awkward in-between of too-relaxed and too-tense. It’s been so long since anyone’s touched him, he feels—even though he knows they had just gone through this the other week, and there was no good reason his body should have felt that heavy and boneless just from someone’s fingers gently carding through his hair.

Jaemin honestly thought he could have fallen asleep, and that was the scariest part. So, he had asked for another iced coffee, preferably one the size of his head, and ignored the poor intern’s look of worry as he chugged it down in nearly one gulp.

“Jaemin-ah,” the stylist delicately dabbing concealer in under his eyes begins to gently chastise him, “Have you not been sleeping? I’m afraid no amount of color-corrector or cover-up is going to hide this bruising,” she purses her lips, reaching again for the sponge to blot the color in, “I might have to go a little brighter on the upper lid to distract from it.”

“Ah. Sorry, noona,” Jaemin sheepishly mumbles, “I’ve been busy with practices. I promise I’ll do better next time. And I’m sorry again for making trouble for you.”

She looks at him with wide eyes before her face melts into a look of fond-exasperation, before lightly flicking him on the forehead with her yellow-painted nail, “Aish, brat. I don’t want you to rest better to make my job easier, but to make sure your health doesn’t decline.”

Jaemin’s cheeks turn bright red as she scolds him, but it has none of the heat that Renjun or Chenle’s held, and Jaemin can’t help but latch onto the teasing lilt to her voice and never let it go.

“Now, I think you’re all good and ready to knock them dead, Jaemin-ah. Fighting!”

Jaemin copies her hand gesture back, before letting himself be swept away by several pairs of hands on him, each one gripping his arms too-tight and causing his skin to burn. Jaemin doesn’t want them touching him. 

It’s just another dance practice, Jaemin tells himself, it’s just another dance practice. And it was, really. It was just another dance practice, but filmed for the fans with a ‘boyfriend’ concept. 

The tie around his neck is just a little too tight, but Jaemin had already been scolded for trying to loosen it once. 

He glances at Jeno’s barely-done tie with envy, wishing his wasn’t so restrictive. Jeno and Donghyuck had gotten the ‘slacker’ looks, whereas Jaemin and Jisung got the more average-student looks. Chenle looked every bit the rich-kid he was, and Renjun as the model student, complete with glasses and a pocket protector.

“Why does Chenle get to wear those shoes and I’m stuck looking like I just woke up?” Donghyuck complains, tugging at his untucked shirt and gesturing to his messily-styled hair, “I mean, come on.”

“What do you mean?” Renjun snorts, “I think it’s pretty on brand.”

Jaemin lets out a breathy chuckle at Donghyuck’s affronted glare. “You are the only one of us that’s nearly been pulled because you kept falling asleep during lessons.”

Donghyuck glares at him even harder than he had Renjun, and Jaemin already wishes he hadn’t made that joke.

“Well, no one asked you.”

Although, it seems Donghyuck is only joking, since he sticks his tongue out almost immediately after, but Jaemin still can’t knock the idea from his head.

Donghyuck didn’t ask. If he wanted Jaemin’s input, he would have asked. He would have asked.

“Hey, don’t look so bummed out,” Donghyuck quips, slinging an arm over Jaemin’s shoulders. He flinches, but Donghyuck either doesn’t notice or doesn’t say anything, “We need you lookin’ nice and chipper, to balance out Jeno’s gloomy, grumpass.”

Donghyuck’s arm is heavy and distracting, Jaemin not even thinking about the implication of the older boy’s words as his gaze drifts to where Jeno was standing. He finds Renjun first, but his back is turned so all Jaemin can see are his thin shoulders as he knocks against Jeno’s side. It makes Jaemin jealous—the easy way Jeno’s frown slips away as he pulls Renjun into a headlock before the oldest manages to reverse their positions.

Jaemin shouldn’t be jealous, not with Donghyuck’s arm warm and firm across his shoulders, but he can’t help but look at Renjun and feel resentment. That should be him, and Jaemin would be lying to himself if tried to convince anyone otherwise.

He can’t breathe, and he tries his best to wiggle out from Donghyuck’s hold with little more than a sheepish smile. Donghyuck’s touch makes his skin itch. It feels wrong. Right, but wrong, and Jaemin doesn’t understand why the once-comforting feeling now makes him want to scratch his skin off. 

He knows how safe Jeno’s arms felt, how tight and secure his hugs were, and that was the worst part. He knew what it felt like, and he knows that he couldn’t continue touching Jeno as he had been. Not only did Jeno not like it, but Jaemin was now worried he would end up revealing just how much he wants the older boy—a desire that was still shocking for him to think about, let alone if Jeno ever found out.

Jaemin wishes Jeno had just told him directly, though, rather than having Donghyuck speculating on the nature of their relationship and have to tell him. The last thing Jaemin wanted was for Jeno to feel trapped, and that’s likely exactly what happened.

Jaemin knows he can be a lot to handle. He likes hugging and touching and kissing and holding. He likes laying in silence and playing with fingers. He likes when Jeno’s head would drop against his shoulder. Times like that, or when Jeno would throw a leg over Jaemin’s thighs, are what make Jaemin wish he was wrong in his thinking, but then he remembers every time recently that Jeno cringed at his touch. 

The idea that Jeno had grown to resent his touch makes Jaemin’s chest physically ache. The idea that Jeno already figured out Jaemin’s feelings, even before Jaemin did, and now felt uncomfortable with his touches, no matter how innocent they were intended to be, makes him feel sick. That wasn’t even an option he had considered, but now he can’t get it out of his head.

It doesn’t matter that Jaemin was left feeling miserable. It doesn’t matter that he can’t sleep at night, mind running rampant with too many thoughts, his emotions going in circles. Jaemin can’t keep up anymore. He just can’t.

He misses Jeno.

Jaemin misses Jeno more than he ever thought possible, even with the other boy so close to him, all the damn time. It was somehow worse than when Jaemin had gone on hiatus. He was at home with his family, and not with the Dream members, sure, but he had been talking to Jeno nearly every night he hadn’t seen him. He had never felt lonely. Jeno made sure of that.

But now, with Donghyuck speaking words into his ear that are too fuzzy for Jaemin to make out, with his gaze still locked on Renjun and Jeno’s carefree bantering, with the static numbing his brain and his fingers and his tongue, Jaemin doesn’t want to keep up anymore.

That doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is Jeno is happier like this, so Jaemin has to learn how to be happy with that too—or, he at least has to make peace with it.

Jaemin’s always been good at suffering quietly.

“You’ve been ignoring me.”

Jaemin’s shoulders stiffen, he tightens his grip on the bag over his left one and tries not to let it show how not-ready for this conversation he is. Instead, he plasters a smile on his face and turns around, “What do you mean, Jeno-yah?”

If anything, Jeno’s face only seems to crumble, and Jaemin feels his own fall at the hurt look Jeno gives him. 

“I mean, you’ve been ignoring me,” Jeno repeats, his voice is guarded and his eyes are narrowed, except Jaemin can see it’s not out of anger, but out of defensiveness. “And I want to know why.”

“I haven’t been ignoring you,” Jaemin tries to argue back, but the lie sounds weak even to his own ears. If possible, Jeno manages to deflate more, disappointment clear on his face.

“When did you start lying all the time?” Jeno whispers, dropping his gaze from Jaemin’s shocked one, “What happened? What did I do?”

“Y-You didn’t do anything,” Jaemin stutters, anything to stop Jeno from looking like that, from sounding like that, “Nothing happened, Jeno—”

“Something did happen! You’re different, and you treat me different. I hate it!” Jeno turns away from him, Jaemin just barely catching sight of the tears that had built up before he sees Jeno’s arms raise to wipe them away.

Jaemin made Jeno cry. The itch under Jaemin’s skin turns into a burn as he barely stops himself from reaching out for him. He tries to remind himself, this is for the best. It’s better than Jeno finding out. It’s better than Jeno being disgusted by him.

Jaemin tries to say something, anything, for Jeno to understand that none of this was his fault. It was Jaemin’s, it was always Jaemin’s fault—with his stupid neediness and wrong feelings. It was Jaemin’s fault, never Jeno’s.

Maybe Jaemin should tell him why, maybe Jeno would understand. Maybe he would appreciate Jaemin’s efforts in making him more comfortable. Making all of them more comfortable. No more dodging his kisses or shrugging his arm from their shoulders. No more forced-politeness as they ask him to stop talking. No more Jaemin being overly co-dependent on them.

He never gets the chance to, because Jeno takes his silence as a conclusion and begins to walk away. 

Jeno doesn’t turn back. Jaemin doesn’t think he deserves to reach out for him.

Jeno has every right to be upset with him. He has every right to hate Jaemin. 

Jaemin doesn’t want to wake up anymore. He opens his eyes, finds Jisung’s bed empty, and takes as many pain-killers as it takes to stop the aching in his back. Some mornings it’s just one—other’s, it’s four. He downs the pills and gets dressed before heading into the kitchen, where everyone is already gathered without him. He tries not to grimace as the rest of the group falls silent at his arrival, and just reaches into the cabinet to pull out a protein bar because he knows he needs to eat, but he feels constantly nauseous now. They go to dance practice. Jaemin is ignored. They go to recording. Jaemin stays quiet. The others go out to get snacks. Jaemin smiles and tells them he’s tired, and then curls up in his bed struggling to breathe. Then, he goes to sleep, however restless it may be.

Before waking up the next morning and repeating the cycle again. 

He doesn’t want to wake up anymore, because every day is the same shit—the same empty feeling in his chest, the same itch under his skin and ache in his bones. Jaemin doesn’t want to feel this way any more, but he knows it’s too late to go back to how it had been before, now that he’s seen everyone shifting, adapting to fill his absence. Like he was never truly needed in to first place.

Jeno doesn’t talk to him anymore. Jeno barely looks at him now, and Jaemin had never truly understood how reliant he was on Jeno’s presence until he no longer had the older boy at his side. 

He’s surrounded by people, but Jaemin has never felt so alone.

Which is why he doesn’t say anything when his back starts hurting so bad he almost can’t bring himself to leave his bed. He deals—He deals with the pain in the same way he deals with the silence, by ignoring it. Jaemin convinces himself that nothing has changed—Jeno isn’t ignoring him, and Jisung doesn’t flinch away every time Jaemin walks into the room, and Chenle doesn’t glare whenever Jaemin says anything. If he stops trying to talk to them, it’s easier than confronting the fact that they don’t want to talk to him.  

Realistically, he knows he can’t continue like this—avoiding the others, swiping away all of Taeyong’s worried messages, practicing until he’s nearly in tears. Jaemin doesn’t know how much longer he can take it.

It’s not the first time he’s thought about pulling out of the group, but Jaemin thinks it might truly be the last. 

“One more run and we’ll call it a night,” their instructor tells them, “Go through Boom. It’s been a few weeks since you’ve done it, correct?”

Jaemin doesn’t try to answer through the heaving of his chest. He seems to be more out of breath than the others, but they’re all still panting as they look towards the front of the room. His eyes catch Donghyuck’s in the mirror, but the older boy looks away after merely a second. 

He doesn’t think about it. Jaemin tries not the think about it.

He’s tired. Everything aches and his head is throbbing but he just needs to get through one more song. Jaemin just needs to make it through this, and they can go home. He’s not going to force the others to stay back—and potentially make them hate him more—by messing up a dance he’s done enough times that it’s practically ingrained in his bones

They were only as strong as their weakest link. Jaemin already knows it’s him, but he won’t allow himself to break under the pressure, just because he can’t handle another few minutes.

“Alright,” Renjun claps, the sound echoing in the room and causing Jaemin to wince, “Let’s go. I know we’re tired but it’s just one more.”

It’s just one more.

Jaemin can get through one more. 

It doesn’t matter that Boom is mostly isolations, which are one of the hardest things on his back, because Jaemin has to get through it. It’s not a matter of can he, but a matter of he has to. Jaemin has to finish this dance, and then he can go home and fall into his bed, only to wish his eyes never open again because he has nothing left to look for.

The thought nearly causes him to stumble, his chest hollowing out faster than he can handle, stomach dropping when he realizes—he has nothing left to hold on to. Without the others, Jaemin has nothing keeping him in this life.

(He means life as an idol, but can’t help but think about it in the other sense. The more permanent meaning.)

It scares him.

“Jaemin,” Jeno snaps at him, and it’s the first word Jeno’s said to him in days. It’s just his name—Jaemin, not ‘Minnie,’ or ‘Nana’—but it’s said with enough venom that Jaemin feels like he’s going to throw up.

The music starts before he can even catch his breath, shocking him into into moving as he rushes to his spot in the center. He’s a beat behind, and he can feel everyone’s eyes on him as he tries to correct his position.

Chenle is glaring. Jaemin makes the mistake of looking to the left when he sees Chenle walking towards him, but he quickly snaps his gaze back to the mirror in front of him. His timing is off as he raises his arm, but it’s not enough to cause the music to pause, so Jaemin does his best to make up for it. 

Until he has to bend forward, knees crouched and head lowered. He’s thankful that the position means his face is hidden from view, but Jeno’s presence behind him makes Jaemin wish he could just fall back against him and not have to worry anymore. He doesn’t think Jeno would catch him. 

Jaemin is exhausted. His back hurts so much that the pain is making his stomach turn to the point that he feels like he might throw up, discomfort and panic making his heart beat fast enough it makes him dizzy. He needs to make it through this song, he needs to. He doesn’t want the others to have a reason to hate him more. 

If he has to go out on another break, he doesn’t think he’d be able to come back.

Jaemin’s part comes next, but he misjudges the amount of force he needs to put behind his pop-up, causing him to overextend his back in a way that nearly makes him double over in pain.

His vision goes fuzzy at the edges. He doesn’t know if he stops dancing, but the music around him has turned into faint echoes. Someone’s hand lands on his shoulder, a barely there weight that still manages to cause Jaemin’s knees to buckle. He falls.

The pain doesn’t hit until after, when he realizes no one had stopped him, even though he knows they had been close enough to catch him. The despair at the realization feels like it’s choking him, Jaemin can’t breathe around the panic that crawls its way up his throat.

“Jaemin?”

His heart is beating too fast, too hard against his ribcage and his spine, and it hurts. It hurts so fucking much and Jaemin wishes it would stop. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe through the pain, desperately needing to focus on anything other than the agony he was in, but the only noise he can properly focus on is Jeno’s voice.

“Jaemin?” Jeno repeats, his voice softer than Jaemin can remember hearing it in weeks, which only forces an ugly-sob to rip its way from his throat as he curls into a ball. His back twinges in protest at the motion, so bad that Jaemin nearly gags from the pain.

He feels sick, he doesn’t feel well at all. The pain builds and builds until its just sitting in his stomach before it forces its way up alongside the panic and Jaemin does gag, bile burning his throat as he chokes and splutters and cries.

“Jaemin,” Jeno repeats for the third time, a hesitant hand resting on Jaemin’s quivering shoulders, “Are you okay? Nana?”

That’s what causes the final crack, and Jaemin breaks.

It’s the first time Jeno has called him Nana in weeks, months, and Jaemin can’t do anything but cry harder as he flinches away from Jeno’s touch. It shouldn’t hurt, but it does. It hurts more than Jaemin can take, the pain not lessening as his muscles seize with every sob. 

“Is it his back?” Renjun asks. The room falls quiet at the question, and the silence rings in Jaemin’s ears. 

He wants them to leave. He doesn’t want them to see him like this. He doesn’t want to be like this. He doesn’t want to hurt anymore.

“Y-You let me fa—all,” Jaemin chokes through his tears, “You—You d-didn’t—”

Jeno’s by his side in an instant, “Jaem—”

“No!” Jaemin wails, “Do—Don’t call me tha—at.”

“Wha—”

 “Don’t—D-Don’t—”

“Shhhh, Nana,” Jeno tries to sooth him, but Jaemin shakes his head as he sinks his teeth into the heel of his palm to muffle the whines that he can’t stop, “Nana, please. It’s okay—”

It’s not okay, you let me fall. You let me fall. You let me fall and I’m not strong enough to get up anymore.

“It’s okay,” Jeno continues to assure him, and Jaemin almost finds himself believing it, “It’s gonna be okay, but I need you to tell me—do we need to take you to a hospital?”

Jaemin can barely shake his head, but he manages, trying not to show the discomfort on his face at the pain it causes. It’s everywhere. He can’t get away from it. Jaemin just wants away from it.

“He looks like he needs to go, though,” Renjun argues, “It hasn’t been this bad since—”

“I know,” Jeno cuts him off, “Trust me, I know. But unless it’s really bad, going to a hospital isn’t gonna get him anything but a reminder to go back to physical therapy and pain medication that I know he still has.”

“I get that, and I’m saying this looks bad enough—”

“Stop,” Jaemin shakily whispers out, “Just, stop it. Please. I don’t need—I don’t need to go. I don’t want to—to go. Please.”

“Should we…leave, then?” Donghyuck asks, awkwardly, “I think Jisung and Chenle went to get one of the managers.”

It’s weird hearing Donghyuck so subdued, but Jaemin doesn’t focus on it too much as he tries to take a few deep breaths to calm the residual sobs that were still shaking his body. The jolts of pain had turned into a burning ache, spreading through his body like fire.

“Can you stand?” Jeno asks him, Donghyuck’s hands join the rapper’s to try and help him up. Jaemin nods, shakily, but his skin burns where their fingers press against it as they attempt to pull him up. Just as soon as he gets upright, the fire in his back that had just barely calmed burns hotter, tearing its way down his spine as his knees buckle. His vision goes blurry once again, Jeno’s voice sounding underwater as Jaemin tries to grab something, anything, to stop him from falling again.

Jeno doesn’t let him. This time, he catches Jaemin.

“Shit,” he hisses, gently lowering them back to the ground, “Sorry, Nana. I’m sorry. I’m gonna have to carry you, I’m sorry.”

Jaemin muffles a miserable sob against Jeno’s shoulder, his muscles tensing when Jeno’s arm presses against his back. It hurts, but Jaemin can’t tell what it is that hurts the most. 

“Johnny-hyung’s outside with a car,” Chenle says after throwing the door open and peeking inside, “Jisung panicked and called him instead of a manager.”

Jaemin clings to Jeno’s hoodie with a pained gasp when the older boy stands up, his back throbbing at the movement and pulling another sob from his lips. He doesn’t bother looking at any of the others, or where they’re going, and keeps his forehead against Jeno’s neck. 

Jeno doesn’t say anything about the tears that fall against his skin, or the shuddery, wet inhales that Jaemin continues to struggle to take, but this is the closest he’s felt to safe in so long. Too long, really, that he almost forgot how it felt.

Jaemin holds on to Jeno, hungry for the warmth he has been desperately missing for the past weeks he spent in painful agony. Alone. 

He doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Jaemin cries, the words muffled in the fabric of Jeno’s hoodie, “I—I messed up. I’m sorry. I’m—”

“If I have to hear either of you say ‘I’m sorry’ one more time,” Donghyuck threatens, stalking in front of them to hold the building door open, “I’m going to lose it. Let’s get home before someone takes a picture.”

The cold air hits him like a slap to the face, everything passing by in a blur around him and Jaemin’s stomach rolls as Jeno adjusts his grip. He winces out an apology, once that Jaemin barely hears over the sound of his own heartbeat, and the realization that he might actually pass out in Jeno’s arms.

“We’re almost to the car,” Jeno quietly tells him, his tone soft and concerned and it makes Jaemin want to curl into a ball and sink through the cement. He doesn’t want to see Johnny, that’s that last thing he wants right now, really. 

Jaemin tries to focus on something other than the pain, and that something happens to be the mole on the side of Jeno’s neck. He used to have another one on the right side of his face, one that Jaemin thought about kissing more than he probably should have, but he got it removed after the company had offered to pay. Jaemin remembers mourning the loss of that mole, which, in hindsight, isn’t really a normal thing.

They make it to the car, Jaemin feigning sleep as he closes his eyes and curls his face towards Jeno’s shoulder. He could hear Johnny’s voice the second Donghyuck opened the door of the car. 

“Where’s—”

“Renjun is staying with Chenle and Jisung,” Donghyuck answers Jeno’s question before he could even finish it, “Johnny-hyung is going to pick them up after he drops us off, or Renjun is gonna get antsy and make them start walking with him. Jaemin?”

Jeno hums, before making a small noise of frustration, “I think he’s out, so hopefully getting in the van won’t be too bad…”

His words make Jaemin tense in anticipation, and he knows Jeno can feel it, but the other boy is perceptive enough of Jaemin’s feelings that he doesn’t correct his previous statement. He only whispers another apology as he lifts a leg to step into the van, trying not to shift his hold on Jaemin as he settles into one of the seats.

Jeno is as careful as he possibly can be, but Jaemin still hisses out a wince into Jeno’s hoodie when he’s jostled into a new position, his thighs on either side of Jeno’s with his face still tucked into Jeno’s hoodie. It’s a struggle to keep his eyes closed when he can hear Donghyuck shuffling around in the seat next to Jeno’s, but one of the last things that Jaemin needs right now is Johnny reprimanding him for not taking care of himself.

Jaemin’s skin feels hot everywhere Jeno is touching, and he tries not to think about how he’s practically in Jeno’s lap, with Jeno’s arms securely around his body and his hands lightly resting on Jaemin’s waist, barely massaging the tips of his fingers into Jaemin’s skin.

It lights a fire in his muscles, and Jaemin can’t tell if it’s hurting or helping when tears spring back up in his eyes. He almost asks Jeno to stop, but a particularly strong press rips a loud gasp from his throat before he can say anything, and Jeno’s entire body freezes as Jaemin shakes in his arms.

“I—S-Sorry, I didn’t…” Jeno trails off, but Jaemin shakes his head with a stuttered exhale. All across the top of his back was burning, the fire threading through his spine and under his skin, everywhere Jeno was still touching felt itchy and like it was stretched too tight over his bones.

He’s gone so long without Jeno’s touch, that finally having it back feels almost wrong.

Jaemin closes his eyes with a sigh, one that he hopes Johnny hadn’t heard, but knows Donghyuck did by the way he nearly begins saying something but Jeno unwraps an arm from Jaemin’s waist to smack the tanner boy on the thigh. Jaemin can feel him shake his head, and he tightens his own arms around Jeno’s neck to press his face even harder against them.

He never wants to let Jeno go. He wonders if he’d be willing to go through this pain forever, if it means Jeno never stops holding him. Jaemin thinks he might be.

The van stops, Jaemin assumes they’ve made it back to the dorms. He’s surprised Johnny let them get away with the silent-ride, but Johnny was never really one to pry into other people’s business when it was serious. Even so, Jaemin has no doubt that he’s going to tell Taeyong and maybe even Kun that something was wrong. And that’s assuming the instructor that had been there hasn’t already informed the company of what happened, then Jaemin may not even have a choice in staying in the group. If he has to take another hiatus, he’s not sure the company would even want him to stick around, running the risk of him being a liability to the group.

“Shhh, Nana,” Jeno whispers against Jaemin’s temple, and he belatedly realizes that he’s started crying again. Small, breathless whimpers escaping his lips as Jeno rubs a hand down his back, the pressure light enough not to hurt, but just that Jaemin can feel it, “S’okay, it’s okay.”

Jeno sounds awkward, and it’s enough to make Jaemin cry harder at how unsure he acts, when comforting Jaemin with ease had once seemed like a skill only Jeno truly possessed. Jaemin is the one that took that away, ripped it from Jeno’s hands with weeks of forced separation and curt dismissals. 

“Thanks, Johnny-hyung. We’re sorry to trouble you,” Donghyuck says as he opens the door, and Jaemin doesn’t even need to lift his head up to know the American’s eyes were on him, he can feel Johnny’s gaze burning the back of his head.

“It’s never any trouble, Hyuckie,” Johnny easily replies, “Just know that Taeyong’s gonna want to talk about this. I can probably convince him to leave you six to talk it out tonight, but after that, it’s on you. Do you want Mark?”

Donghyuck takes a second to answer, “I don’t…think so. He wasn’t really apart of…this.”

Johnny hums, Jaemin wonders if he has any idea what Donghyuck means. If he’s aware of the rift that’s been forming between the six of them—the rift that Jaemin created, but the others did nothing to stitch closed. If anything, they showed Jaemin just how much his presence impacted the team dynamic. Negatively.

Maybe that’s what they want to talk about. Maybe that’s why Donghyuck doesn’t want Mark there, because he’s worried Mark would try to argue against kicking Jaemin out. Chenle would agree in a heartbeat. Ever since Jaemin hit Jisung that morning, the maknae has been walking on eggshells around him, like he’s afraid, and Chenle has barely spoken to him without a scoff or three being thrown around.

He’s nearly too caught in his own thoughts to realize Jeno is trying to maneuver out of the van, but he has to hike Jaemin up higher on his front and it hurts. Bad enough that an involuntary yelp of pain makes its way past his lips, barely muffled by his arms, and Jaemin is so sick of hearing himself cry. He has a feeling it’s only going to get worse.

Jeno carries him out of the van like that, with Jaemin’s arms around his neck and legs around his waist, as he clings to the older boy like a weeping toddler. He wants to hate it, but it’s better on his body than the way Jeno had been carrying him, and his back still hurts and his skin still itches and Jaemin just wants to get inside and stop thinking.

No one says anything for the duration of the walk, save for the ‘thank you’ that Jeno spares the doorman. The silence continues into the elevator, all the way up to the 7th floor. Jaemin’s chest feels tighter with each floor they pass. He wants to be home, because home is where his pain medication is, but home also happens to be where Jaemin knows they’re going to want to ‘talk’ to him about this. He just hopes they give him enough time to get back on his feet before he has to start worrying about his future and place in the group.

It lasts all the way to the living room, the stretch of silence, until Donghyuck clears his throat, “Okay, so. What the fuck was that.”

Jaemin flinches. Donghyuck hadn’t phrased it as a question. Jaemin doesn’t know how to answer.

“Hyuck,” Jeno warns, still holding Jaemin in his arms—why hasn’t he put Jaemin down yet?—“At least save it until everyone’s calmed down.”

As if his body’s only goal is to spite him, Jaemin’s breath catches on a shuttered inhale, one that makes Jeno’s arms tense up under his thighs.

“Right,” Donghyuck says, in a tone entirely unreadable to Jaemin, a tone that makes his breath threaten to catch again as Donghyuck heads into the kitchen.

Jeno doesn’t move for several seconds after that, Jaemin is about to lift his head up to ask when he’s gently lowered onto the couch. He quickly scrubs at his eyes with the palms of his hands, trying to remove the residual tears and snot and whatever else dirties his face.

“Lay back,” Jeno instructs him in a subdued tone, still acting awkward and cautious, but Jaemin complies because he doesn’t know what else to do. “I’m gonna…grab your…” He waves his hand around with a lost look on his face, like he doesn’t know what to do with his body now that he no longer has the explicit purpose of carrying Jaemin.

He stands up, ready to join Donghyuck in the kitchen, before Jaemin awkwardly clears his throat to stop him, “They’re—” His voice still comes out cracked and shaky, so he coughs into his hand with a wince, “They’re not in the kitchen. They’re in my—my room.”

Jeno turns back to him with a wide-eyed look, and Jaemin can’t help but wince again. It was an agreement amongst all NCT members that any and all medications stayed in the kitchen, after a small episode in the WayV dorms with YangYang repeatedly not following the recommended dosage printed on the bottle and Kun not noticing until he realized the youngest member of their unit was running out too quick to be sticking to his schedule.

They had all received a lecture from management, with a select few of them getting extra-pointed looks at the implications, and the leaders were told to keep an extra eye on any medications, as well as the two managers that lived in the 127 dorms. Yuta, who was one of the more tight-lipped members of the group, had protested at that, but Taeyong was quick to pull him back. Arguing was futile, SM was already in hot-water with idols and mental-health treatment, they weren’t going to change their minds. 

Since Dream didn’t share with a manager, it was Mark that was put in charge of it, but there wasn’t really much to look after besides Jaemin’s pain medication and the pills Renjun had for when his migraines got too bad for simple painkillers. After Mark graduated from Dream, the task had fallen to Renjun, and then it was just forgotten about, since neither of them took the medications they had regularly, only when they had to.

So no one really noticed when Jaemin’s bottle went missing from the cabinet, finding a permanent home in his bed-side table. Or when it started emptying faster than usual during one of his flare-ups.

Jeno returns with the small, orange bottle, as well as one of Jaemin’s pillows and the heating pack he had half-heartedly hidden under his blanket that morning. “I didn’t know if—I found—” Jeno backtracks, “Uh—Here.”

He holds out Jaemin’s pills with a sheepish look, Jaemin takes them with shaking hands before sitting up with some difficulty to dry-swallow two of them. Jeno doesn’t say anything, only warily eyes the pills as they go from Jaemin’s hands to past his lips, like he wants to comment on Jaemin taking more than one, but decides against it at the last second before pointedly looking away once more.

He doesn’t care.

“I brought a pillow, too,” Jeno says, still not taking his eyes away from the floor, but still noticing Jaemin’s lack of answer and continuing, “To put under your knees. That’s a…That’s a thing you do…Right?…”

Jeno knows the answer to this. He’s seen Jaemin do it hundreds of times, but he keeps talking like he’s scared to be wrong.

Jaemin nods, slowly, but doesn’t make any move to take the pillow from Jeno’s hands. Rather, he just lays back against the couch and looks up at Jeno with an unsure expression. They’re both acting overly-cautious of one another, Jaemin’s fault, and dancing around the obvious tension between them, always Jaemin’s fault.

Jeno, with none of the confidence he usually holds, gently pushes Jaemin back against the cushions. He lets himself fall back, trusting Jeno with more than he should—there’s very little he wouldn’t do if Jeno asked, that thought scares him—to not hurt him. His hands barely ghost over Jaemin’s skin, feather-light as his guides Jaemin’s legs up, just enough to slip the pillow under his knees.

“Are you cold?” He asks, voice still more subdued than Jaemin can ever remember hearing it.

“Jeno-yah—”

Suddenly, the door to the dorm opens, and Jeno jumps away from him like he’s been burnt as Renjun pushes through the door. Before Jaemin even knows what’s happened, the three remaining Dream members are in the room and the door slams shut with enough force to shake the wall surrounding it.

“Jaemin,” Renjun hisses the second his eyes land on the younger boy. Jaemin can feel himself shrinking away from the narrowed eyes focused on him, and he can’t help but to think, Oh no, here it comes, as he marches his way up to the couch.

Renjun has this way of making himself appear larger than life. He was good at making people look up to him, no matter how much shorter he was than them. Jaemin still hasn’t quite figured out how he does it.

“Jun—”

“No, Jeno,” Renjun cuts him off with a glare, before he focuses back on Jaemin. His eyes aren't unkind, per say, but they’re stern. “We need to talk about this. We need to talk to you, Jaemin. We’ve been putting it off for weeks in the hopes that you would say something to us first, but we should’ve known that would never happen.”

Again, there’s nothing explicitly unkind about the words, but they’re direct and they’re forceful and they make Jaemin’s face burn with shame. He throws his arms over his eyes, feeling too exposed on his back with all of the others looking down at him. He’s vaguely aware that he’s shaking again, but then fingers are combing through his hair and brushing the strands away from his forehead.

He peeks out of the protective circle of his arms, just enough to see Jeno kneeling near his head in front of the couch. His fingers continue to comb through the faded-blue, the light pressure against his scalp does wonders to ease the anxiety that threatens to choke him, even though Jaemin knows he doesn’t deserve it.

This is where they tell him it’s over. This is where everything comes to an end. Where Jaemin loses everything that’s ever made him happy, all because he wasn’t strong enough to hold on.

“Jaemin, we should’ve had this conversation weeks ago.”

And with that, Jaemin breaks.

“I’m sorry,” he all but wails, curling on his side to press his face against Jeno’s chest. He shouldn’t, Jaemin knows he shouldn’t, but he doesn’t know how to feel okay again when Jeno isn’t by his side. “I’m—I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sorry, s-sorry. I tried—I tried, I—I c-couldn’t—”

“Shhh, Jaemin-ah,” Jeno breathes, one hand cupping the back of Jaemin’s head in a protective hold, "It’s okay—”

“It’s not okay,” Donghyuck pushes, “It’s not okay, stop saying it is!”

Fingers tangled in Jeno’s hoodie, Jaemin freezes at the older boy’s words. He’s upset, that much is obvious, and it’s Jaemin’s fault. He’s upset and it’s Jaemin’s fault. He’s upset and it’s Jaemin’s fault. He’s upset and it’s Jaemin’s fault.

“Are you leaving?”

The words feel like ice. Jaemin’s heart stutters in his chest. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. His heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest. Jeno’s arms tighten around the back of his head, around his shoulder, pulling Jaemin in closer to his chest at an angle that makes his back violently protest, but Jaemin doesn’t care. He doesn’t care because he can’t care. He’s not allowed to care because it’s his fault this has happened. It’s his fault. His fault. His fault. His fault.

“Donghyuck,” Jeno nearly growls, “Stop. This isn’t how we said we were going to handle it.”

Jaemin flinches back, trying to pull away from Jeno. He should’ve known. He should have known, he should have known. He let himself forget. He grew complacent. He let himself forget that Jeno doesn’t want him around anymore, either, and that’s why Jaemin tries to pull away. It shouldn’t hurt this much, knowing that, but it does. It does.

“Hyungs,” Jisung’s voice wavers as he tries to catch everyone’s attention—a waver that he caused, Jaemin gags at the thought, “I don’t think this is working.”

“I knew we should’ve told Mark,” Donghyuck says, petulantly, “He’s bet—”

“We don’t need Mark here,” Renjun cuts him off, “This doesn’t have anything to do with him. It’s our problem and we can handle it.”

“Just like how you’ve been handling it for weeks?” 

Jaemin looks up just in time to see Donghyuck push Renjun back, knocking the smaller boy to the ground and Jaemin can feel the fear breaking him out in a cold sweat as he watches Renjun pull Donghyuck down right after him. They’re not even on the floor for more than a few seconds before Jisung and Chenle intervene, but it’s enough time for Jaemin’s panic to spill over.

He bits his lip to hold back the whimpers that threaten to force their way past his lips, but it does little to stop the sobs that burst from his chest, wracking his body with desperate inhales because it’s his fault they’re fighting like this.

It takes Jaemin forcing himself out of Jeno’s arms to curl in on himself in front of the couch. His spine feels like it’s being twisted around itself and Jaemin wishes it would just snap. He wishes his ribs would just give out and shred his lungs, because it’s not like they were taking in any air anyway. 

He remains crumpled like that, eyes clenched shut, mouth open and gasping for air he can’t seem to find. Jeno’s talking to him, trying to pull Jaemin’s arms away from where they were tight around his chest, hands clawing at his back, nails trying to dig out the source of his pain.

His fault. His fault. His fault. His fault. It was his fault. 

Jaemin ruined this group.

And the worst part, the part that continues to run through his head, is that Jaemin knows he deserves this. He knows that this is only fair after what he’s put them through. But, despite knowing this, Jaemin can’t help but wish it would all end soon.

He’s not sure how long he’s there, crying and scratching and shaking and waiting, waiting, waiting for it to stop. For the pain to stop. For the yelling to stop. For everything to stop. He just wants it to stop.

He doesn’t notice when it does. When the yelling stops. When Donghyuck stops pushing Renjun, when Chenle stops trying to separate them to stare at Jaemin with worried eyes. Jaemin continues to shake.

He does notice the hands that grasp his own—Jeno’s hands—the feeling of warm skin against his own making him flinch back, the pressure only adding to his panic but Jeno doesn’t waver, doesn’t stop in his mission until he has Jaemin’s wrists in a vice-grip, unyielding with each cry Jaemin lets out.

Jeno’s grip loosens slightly at the sound, but never lets go, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, please stop, Jaemin-ah. Please, stop. You’re going to hurt yourself more, Nana.”

He gives one last jerk away, but it’s pointless, and he ends up collapsing back against Jeno’s chest with a strangled sob.

“Jaemin,” Jeno breathes, and Jaemin lets out another sob at the name, “Nana,” the older boy quickly corrects himself, “Please, please listen. We just need you to talk to us.”

Jaemin shakes his head, still gasping for breath but it’s not nearly as frantic as it was, now that Jeno’s arms are back around him. His head feels fuzzy, frantic thoughts still racing through his mind, making him feel dizzy and nauseous. 

He knows he needs to get himself together, to hear what they have to say, no matter how much it ends up hurting in the end.

“What if I start first?” Jeno asks, waiting for Jaemin to give him the barest of a nod to continue, “Okay…Okay. I’m upset with you.”

Jaemin doesn’t have the strength to be surprised. He’s known this, but that doesn’t make hearing it straight from Jeno’s mouth hurt any less, but the words that follow do manage to catch him off guard. 

“You’ve been avoiding me for weeks. You’ve turned-tail and ran every time I’ve tried talking to you. You don’t talk to me. You don’t even look at me anymore, and I don’t know what I’ve done wrong to cause it. It’s—It’s like you’re punishing me for something, but I don’t know what.”

There’s no time to collect his scattered thoughts before Renjun takes over, “Are you planning on leaving the group? Is that why you’ve been so distant with us?”

“W-What? No.”

It comes out weaker than he intends, but he got the words out and that’s already more than Jaemin expected. 

“You’ve been acting weird,” Renjun says the words like they leave a bad taste on his tongue, “Like you don’t want to be around us anymore. We tried giving you space, some time to get over it, but it never stopped.”

“W-What?”

“What aren’t you getting?” Donghyuck bristles, “You’ve been acting like it’s a chore to just be around us.”

Jaemin doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t—

“I don’t—”

“You don’t talk to any of us, hyung,” Jisung mumbles, resolutely keeping his gaze on the floor just to the right of Jaemin’s crumpled form, “You’ve been…”

He doesn’t continue. Jaemin wonders if he’s thinking about the time he backhanded him without a second thought.

“You’ve been weird,” Chenle picks up, and Jaemin only wants to cry more. He shakes his head slightly, still not understanding what they mean by weird. They keep repeating it, and Jaemin just wants to know what it is about him they don’t like. If he knows, then he can work to fix it. “It’s making things really…tense.”

“You don’t need me.”

The words are little more than a breathy whisper, Jaemin drops his gaze to where Jeno’s hands are still holding onto his. Jeno’s knuckles are white, Jaemin wonders if it’s his fingers that are trembling, or Jeno’s. Maybe it’s both.

“What?” Renjun says after several moments of pause.

Jaemin lifts his head, looking the eldest in the eyes for the first time in weeks, “You don’t…” His voice wavers, his gaze falls back to his hands, “You guys don’t need me. I’m just—I’m—I’m a nuisance,” Jaemin forces out, “I only cause—p-problems. For you guys.”

“That’s not true?” Jeno gently argues with him, “Nana, what makes you think that?”

Jaemin doesn’t answer, keeps his head down and shoulders tense because he doesn’t know what to expect anymore.

“No one…cared. I—You don’t—I know I—I talk too much, and I’m too clingy, and I’m—I’m sorry. I tried to be better, I tried. I tried to—to stop, but—I…”

Jaemin flinches back when Donghyuck sinks to the floor next to him, his arm curling over Jaemin’s shoulder and pulling the younger boy against his chest with a shaky exhale, “This is my fault,” he mumbles against Jaemin’s temple, “This is all my fault.”

Wide-eyed, Jaemin feels his body begin to tremble again as one of Donghyuck’s hands slides into his hair, fingers stroking comfortingly against his scalp and the horrible throbbing that’s been beating in his skull for weeks begins to ease, replaced with the warm-fuzziness that comes with Donghyuck’s touch. He doesn’t think about Donghyuck’s words, only lets out a shuddery breath as he lets himself go completely limp against Donghyuck’s chest.

Jeno’s hand, strong and safe, rests on Jaemin’s back, “Hyuck?”

“I said something,” Donghyuck mumbles, still petting Jaemin’s hair, “I said something and I realize now that I’m…thinking back on it…it didn’t quite have the intended effect. Jaeminnie, I—I didn’t mean that.”

“What did you say?” Renjun asks.

Jaemin shakes his head, pressing further into Donghyuck’s chest, “It’s—It’s so stupid,” he manages after his voice cracks, “I’m sorry, it’s my f-fault. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Jeno makes a small noise of disagreement, “Nana, it’s not stupid. Nothing that upsets you this much could ever be stupid.”

“Stupid. R-Ruined everyt-thing.”

“Hey, hey, Jaemin-ah,” Renjun knocks his shoulder against Donghyuck’s, all earlier discourse between them forgotten in an effort to get closer, “You didn’t ruin anything. We haven’t been…the best, either.”

Jaemin’s skin tingles where Renjun’s small hand slides down to rest comfortingly at the nape of his neck, just where Jaemin missed it the most, and he sniffles as he remembers every glare. Every shove. Every dismissal he had received in the past weeks. Every everted gaze. Every scoff. 

Donghyuck hiccups, squeezing Jaemin in his and burying his face in the younger boy’s hair, “I’m sorry, Jaeminnie. I’m so, so sorry. This is because of me. You’ve been pulling away because I made you think we didn’t want you,” he sniffles, “I wish I just kept my stupid mouth shut.”

Silence reigns over the group for some time, each person to absorbed in the mistakes they had made until Jisung speaks up.

“Hyung…When you—When you hit me…”

Jaemin can see Chenle tense up at the maknae’s words, and he prepares himself for the angry words he doesn’t know why he hasn’t gotten already.

“I jumped on your back, right?”

“Jisung,” Renjun quietly admonishes, “Why would you—”

“It was an accident!” Jaemin is quick to defend, voice shaking and warped with tears, “He—He didn’t know, he—he—”

“How long has your back been hurting again?” Jeno continues lightly massaging Jaemin’s neck, where pain is more spread out, brows creased with concern, “How long have we missed it?”

Jaemin mumbles out the answer, flinching in shock when Donghyuck incredulously repeats him, “Weeks? Jaemin, that’s—What were you thinking?”

“I—I’m sorry for not—not saying anything sooner, I just…”

“No, don’t be sorry,” Renjun sadly mumbles, his thumb lightly stroking over Jaemin’s skin, “This is our fault. We should have noticed. We should have said something. We’re the ones that need to do better.”

“Oh.”

Renjun’s hands move to cup the younger boy’s face between them, drawing his gaze back up with a serious look, “Jaemin, as your hyung, it’s my responsibility to take care of you, and I failed at that. I’ll work to be better from now.”

Jaemin looks at him with confusion clear on his face, “You—You mean you’re not…kicking me out?”

He jumps slightly at the loud smack that follows his question, eyes darting up to see Chenle with his palm pressed against his forehead, “We’re all really stupid, aren’t we?”

Jaemin lets out a choked laugh, “I’m sorry I....made things difficult.”

Donghyuck gives him a small swat on the thigh, “Can we please not say those words again until tomorrow, at least? I’m tired.”

Renjun gives a slow, cautious nod, “Yeah…I think we should all get some rest. I’ll see what I can do about the practice we have tomorrow, and Jaeminnie, if your back is still hurting, maybe we can see about getting it checked out again?” Jaemin hums in response, Renjun continues on with, “Okay, we can talk more tomorrow, then. After we’ve showered and—and rested.”

“I’m okay,” Jaemin says, with little to no drive behind it, because, realistically, he knows better than anyone that he should be seeing someone again about his back.

“No, you’re not,” Renjun sighs, but it ends in a small smile that Jaemin can’t help but mirror, “But you will be. I’ll make sure of that.”

Jaemin thinks back to every time he’s thought of Renjun as someone that can’t be constrained, someone with too much passion in their body to be anything but a star, but now he realizes that isn’t true. Renjun may be the oldest now, but he’s only a few months older than Jaemin. Renjun is just as young and flappable as the rest of them. He was just better at hiding it.

“Nana,” Jeno gently pulls Jaemin away from Donghyuck, and back into his arms, “Do you want to stay with me tonight? I don’t want to—I don’t want to let go.”

He faintly hears Chenle or Jisung or someone make a gagging noise, but Jaemin can’t hear too well over the pounding of his heart in his ears, the rush of warmth the runs through his body, and he lets himself go limp against Jeno’s body. Everything he had been holding back, the tenseness in his muscles, the itchy feeling under his skin. Gone.

Jeno wants to touch him.

And Jaemin wants that to. He wants to touch and be touched by him.

Jaemin allows himself to be pulled to his feet, easier now that the painkillers have turned the fire into a dull ache, but still swaying slightly the second he’s upright. For a second, he’s worried he’s going to fall, but Jeno’s arms are quick to snake around his waist and steady him.

“C’mon, Nana. I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

He follows Jeno with his pillow clutched between his arms, into the older boy's room where the lights are off and there’s clothes strewn about on the floor, and it’s messier than Jaemin can ever remember seeing it, but it smells like Jeno and it feels like Jeno and it’s been weeks since Jaemin has even stepped foot in this room. 

The sheets on his bed haven’t been made, and neither of them have showered and Jaemin can feel the way the sweat has dried uncomfortably on his skin, but none of that matters. 

None of that matters when Jeno leads him through the dark room and to the bed, when he helps Jaemin settle in first because he knows which side the younger boy prefers sleeping on. None of the matters when Jeno takes the heating pad that he brought in from the living room and unplugs his phone charger to take its place, or when he lifts his hoodie up and over his head, leaving him in just a thin tanktop.

Nothing matters anymore, because Jaemin has Jeno back.

He never truly lost him, but he had gotten close. It was his fault, but maybe Jaemin can accept that they’ve all had their faults with how everything played out.

Jeno settles into the bed, guiding Jaemin to press closer and closer until he’s nearly on top of him, and then grabbing the heating pad to hold it against Jaemin’s lower back.

Jaemin shivers against his chest, closing his eyes and letting Jeno’s steady heartbeat soothe the aches in his muscles. The silence sits over them like a weighted blanket, but there’s no tension. It’s careful and curious, but not stifling or suffocating like Jaemin can remember from the past days, until Jeno breaks it.

“What is it that Donghyuck said?”

Jaemin hums, snuggling closer as Jeno lightly massages his hands down his back, “He said…you didn’t like touching…me. Touching me. Or…me touching you,” he murmurs, waiting for Jeno to laugh at him for being silly, or overdramatic, but it never comes. Jeno merely sighs, pressing his lips against the crown of Jaemin’s head and holding him even closer.

“Why would you think that’s stupid? I’m sorry we haven’t been good enough to make you see that wasn’t true. We’ll do better, from now on. I promise.”

Jeno’s fingers find a rhythm, rubbing soothing circles against his aching body, gaining more confidence with each ounce of tension that bleeds from Jaemin’s body.

“Nana?”

“Hm?”

“Please never do that again,” Jeno whispers, “I thought I was going to lose my mind. Talk to me next time, okay? I love you too much to see you suffering like this.”

Jaemin smiles.

"I love you too, Jeno-yah."