idk wtf i'm doin

Minho smiles softly, lowering himself into his lovers lap and raises his eyebrows at him. “My sweet love, it's been an hour since we've last seen each other.”

“Mhm, 60 minutes too much, if you ask me,” he says, making him laugh. 

Minho kisses his forehead lovingly. “Get done with it, love. I need a shower.”

Chan chuckles softly, getting back to work. It's quiet in the room besides the occasional soft clicks of Chan's keyboard. He mindlessly rubs his lower back, smiling as Minho rests his head against his shoulder. 

Minho squints his eyes together as he testingly moves his foot in tiny circles. Okay, not a good idea. Chan wraps up eventually, locks the door and takes Minho's hand. Minho struggles keeping up with him, trying to hide how agonizing every step he takes feels. 

“You're okay? You're walking so slow,” Chan teases him as they reach the elevator. 

“Just really tired,” he tells him with a weak smile. 

Chan frowns softly, brushing his hair back for him. “Why didn't you say so? We could've left earlier,” he says and at Minho's tired shrug he picks him up. 

“Hyungie,” he protests softly, just once more indicating something's wrong. He rarely calls him hyung anymore. “Your back, love, you have to be careful.”

“Min, it's been two months. I'm all good now,” he giggles and gently adjusts Minho's weight as he steps out of the elevator. 

Minho doesn't dare to complain, not wanting to risk revealing how much he's hurting right now. Not having to walk sure helps a little. 

Chan cuddles him close in the backseat of the car, soothingly fondling his head. “Sadly we can't sleep in tomorrow.”

“Yeah, just another long day,” Minho nods, mindlessly rubbing Chan's knee. Shit, that means there's no time to visit their doctor before practice. Especially not in secret. 

Under the shower he realizes the gravity of the situation as his ankle is already swollen and starting to look bruised. Tears of frustration well up in his eyes as reality slowly settles in. There's no chance he could perform in three days. Not with their new intense choreos. There's no way Chan wouldn't notice. Fuck. 

He drags himself to bed, biting back a groan as Chan shuffles in a little later. “Cuddles?” he guesses and Chan nods, almost timidly. 

“Sorry, I can't sleep. There's too much going through my head,” he says and Minho lifts the blanket in response. Chan slips inside next to him, turning onto his side and smiles at him weakly. 

“Go on, let it all out,” Minho encourages him, growing gentle at the worry lacing his boyfriend's face. 

“I just feel like we still have so much to do but so little time. Like, we still had so many missteps today during practice. I still have to finish another two songs and then there's the interview coming up,” Chan rambles on, finding comfort in Minho's understanding dark coffee eyes. 

“Chan?” Minho asks gently. 

“I'm so nervous something will go wrong at the last minute, you know?” he asks timidly, before shaking his head. “Sorry, you were saying?”

Minho opens his mouth and closes it again. He can't. He physically can't tell him. “I love you,” he says instead. “I love you and it'll be okay.”

“Okay,” Chan exhales softly, features relaxing a little. “I love you too, Min. I don't know how I'd manage without you.”

“I'm here,” he promises, swallowing down his guilt. No, there is no use in telling him. Chan deserves a few hours of rest. He watches him fall asleep in his arms after a while and mindlessly plays with his hair. His ankle is pulsing with hot flashes of pain and he carefully adjusts his leg, trying to get more comfortable. After what feels like hours he finally falls asleep. 

-

“Alright, let's do LALALALA and then we're done,” Chan announces and Minho bites back a groan. 

“You're sure? Maybe we should take a break,” Minho suggests. Sweat is slowly forming on his forehead, his ankle is practically screaming for help at this point. “Look at them,” he tries but Chan shakes his head.

“Just that one, then we're done for the day, baby. Then we can all go home,” he says and Minho gives in reluctantly. 

They get into position and the music starts blasting through the room. Minho winces softly at the many little jumps and stomps he has to deliver. His stomach tightens in pain and even though his vision gets blurry he tells himself to pull through. But his body thinks differently and a sudden intense wave of sickness crashes over him. He covers his mouth with his hand in shock, stumbling to the closest bin and throwing up. It only takes a few seconds and he can feel Chan next to him, hesitantly rubbing his back. Minho braces himself at the wall weakly, trying to take off the weight from his ankle, as he coughs helplessly. 

They only turn off the music once he's done and he's grateful for the tiniest bit of decency they offered him. He sits down weakly at the bench nearby and buries his face in his hands with a frustrated groan. 

“Hyung, what's going on?” Felix asks worriedly. 

“Nothing, I just -,” he breaks off meeting his boyfriend's eyes, brimming with tears. “Channie, love,” he says worriedly. “Hey, honey, it's not that bad, I promise,” he tells him. 

“I'm sorry,” Chan says weakly. “You asked for a break, I should've known.”

Minho shakes his head and reaches out for him. “No, come here,” he tries again. 

Changbin quietly gathers the rest to give them some space and Chan moves once they're gone. 

“Why didn't you tell me you were feeling sick?” Chan asks timidly. “Was that why you were so tired yesterday?” 

“I'm not sick,” Minho admits lowly. 

“What? Min, you just threw up in the-.”

“Channie, I'm being stupid. I'm not sick, I swear,” he tells him and Chan blinks at him confused. “And it's also not your fault, love. I shouldn't have done anything today,” he confesses. 

“Are you…Baby, did you get hurt?” Chan asks worriedly and Minho closes his eyes in defeat. “Where?” he asks. 

“Please don't be mad,” Minho says quietly before carefully slipping out of his sneaker. He pulls down his sock a little and anxiously watches Chan take in the sight. 

“Minho.”

“Chan, please.” Minho shakes his head. “Don't.”

“You're such an idiot sometimes,” Chan snaps, surprising them both. 

“I know,” Minho nods, but it still hurts hearing it from Chan. 

“Why wouldn't you tell me? Why do you keep pushing yourself when you're hurt until you can't go on anymore?” he continues, getting up and pacing a small area in front of him. “And why am I still so dumb and believe you?”

“Love,” he tries weakly. 

“No, fuck that right now,” he says firmly and Minho shuts up quickly. “I swear you're driving me insane sometimes,” he says before leaving the room, slamming the door. 

“Wow, thanks,” he sniffles to himself, frustration and pain taking over. “I know that was stupid, that's no reason to leave me here,” he huffs, stubbornly wiping a tear off his cheek. He slips back into his sneaker with a hiss, biting his lower lip hard at the pain shooting through his body. He pushes himself up, yelping in pain as his foot meets the ground. More tears shoot to his eyes and he weakly holds himself up against the wall. 

“Sit down, please,” Chan says, suddenly back in the room. 

“No, fuck you,” Minho bursts out. “I want someone to check this and then I'll drag myself home,” he sniffles. 

“I said sit down, Minho,” Chan speaks firmly and Minho does, not without glaring at him through tears. Chan carefully takes off his shoe again, pulling down his sock again to inspect the damage. “I'm sorry, Min. I shouldn't have snapped,” he says, carefully holding a bag of ice he found in the fridge to his ankle. “I'm just worried about you and it's pissing me off when you start hiding things.”

“Well, I didn't want you to worry,” Minho groans. “You worry too much already, you don't need my bullshit as well.”

“Your bullshit is my bullshit. Always has been, always will. You don't hide from me when you're hurt, you hear me?” he asks, meeting his eyes for the first time since he's back. “I want to trust you, Minho. You have to be honest with me for that.”

Minho chews on his lower lip nervously before giving in with a gentle nod. “Okay.”

“Seeing you throw up in the middle of practice is concerning me much more than your ankle,” he tells him, sighing softly. “How did it happen?”

“I was practicing that kick yesterday and tripped. It's my own fault, I should've stopped once I got tired,” he explains, timidly searching his eyes. “You're still mad at me?”

“No,” Chan sighs. “But we're seeing a doctor, now.”

“Alright,” Minho nods, accepting the bottle of water Chan offers him. “I promise, I'll get better with this.”

“Shh, drink up. We'll talk about this another time, yeah?” he asks gently. “My reckless kitten…”

Minho gently shoves his shoulder. “Stop it, you overprotective lapdog.”

“You better be quiet now,” Chan laughs, picking him up. “Let's get you checked.”

Minho hums gently, hugging him close. “I'm sorry for worrying you, love.”

“Don't be,” Chan says gently, kissing his cheek. “You always come first, yeah?”

“Okay,” Minho smiles sweetly, squeezing him. He should really start telling him sooner; it would benefit them both. 

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