💭

A scowl jerked over made up features as the man laughed in front of him. Had he not been feeling so worn out, maybe he would have punched him. Maybe.

“Did you expect me to go out and buy something? That’s really problematic of you, you know. Assuming that I have any sort of extra funding to afford a Halloween costume is just your doctor privilege showing, Arden. You and I are in entirely different tax brackets and you should be ashamed of yourself—what if I was a child and this was the best I could do? Would you withhold candy from me then?” Saeran spoke with a sort of drawl that was saved for only the times when he was being particularly playful, like when Salem wanted to jump across the furniture, or when he teased people who were just terrible at games on the internet. A smile pulled at his lips.

The smaller of the two took a couple of steps forward, letting one hand rest on the man’s shoulder as he stood on the tips of his toes. A gloved hand reached for the bowl of candy, small fingers scraping just at the bottom. “God damn you—give me the candy you overgrown monster.” He whined. Saeran was far too distracted to note just how close the two of their bodies were, how their chests touched and Saeran was all but clinging to the other for balance in his pursuit of candy.

Arden rolled his eyes at the dramatics. Months earlier, he would not have dared to do such a thing—he would tread on eggshells around the other, being careful and thinking precisely about what he was going to say. This however, was not a primary concern anymore. “You have an answer for everything, you know that, right?” He’d grown to become desensitised to the quips, recognising the particular tones in which they spoke, and gathered that Saeran was teasing him in their own quirky way. It was hidden behind a serious expression, a scowl, but Arden knew that it was there. It served to do nothing but further his amusement—Saeran was scrappy, and it was times like this when Arden was exposed to it. Another laugh escaped as Saeran stepped forward, movements set with the intention of taking the bowl from his hands.

Arden remained where he stood, watching Saeran with an eyebrow raised as their fingertips ghosted along the bowl. He could have prolonged it, teased them by lifting it higher, but the sound of what was most likely a neighbours’ footsteps sounding from down the hall caused Arden to halt. Their current position may have looked suspicious to an onlooker, as Saeran was pressed rather close against him. He’d noticed that Saeran didn’t have much trouble touching others, and it was something that made him curious. Arden often refrained from touching Saeran, which was often a difficult feat. He was the type to bat a hand against someone if they said something funny, ·or to pat a shoulder when sympathy called for it. Arden eventually let the bowl descend, letting Saeran have what they wanted. “I’m not overgrown, you’re just small.” Arden’s smile widened, and he took a step back into his apartment.

“Would you prefer if I said nothing at all? Left your prejudices uncorrected?” Saeran could hardly help themselves. They liked to give Arden a hard time. They liked watching the other process Saeran’s words and attempt to make sense of it. It was different with Arden. He didn’t find annoyance in his responses. The smaller of the two couldn’t help the bit of pleasure he fond in annoying Arden— watching the way his brows would knit together, the exasperation, the slight agitation.

Maybe Saeran had the smallest crush, but they would never admit that out loud. It was hard enough to admit that to themselves.

His tongue pressed against his upper lip in concentration, only for a pleased gasp to part his lips when the bowl rested in his hands, allowing for his feet to flatten on the floor, eyes gazing into the bowl with a twinge of excitement.

God, he loved Halloween.

He found himself feeling just a bit better than he had earlier.

“Hm?” They let out, fingers delving into the bowl in search of KitKats.

It took the mint haired ghost a moment to process the words that had been thrown into their direction but the moment it did Saeran felt a frown growing. “I’m not small.” They huffed, tossing a twizzler at the man with intentions to hit them in the chest.

“I’m average height. You’re just a fucking giant, spewing your stupid giant privilege at me.” Saeran wanted to say more, to pout more, but their fingers finally landed on the wrapper they’d been looking for and their attention was ,again, pulled in another direction.

Saeran could hardly keep their tired eyes from fluttering closed as the man’s fingers brushed his hair away, the exhaustion that always gripped his small body was always so hard for him to fight. “Don’t have to leave, though.” Saeran mumbled, their lower lip jutting out for only a moment before they forced their eyes open once again. Arden still didn’t seem real, both in that moment and in general. It seemed the man who was always coming to Saeran’s aid was too good to be true. How could someone be so kind and gentle to someone like Saeran? Someone who had never given them a reason to stay around?

His tin fingers gripped lightly at the man’s jeans. “We’re friends. Friends don’t let friends hurt alone.” He said simply.

Saeran didn’t want Arden to leave. It seemed that in their time together the smaller of the two had grown attached. They had grown protective. And even more than that, they had allowed Arden to see parts of himself that he reserved for the hard nights that he spent alone. The tears that came with being invalidated. The rage that came with being beaten. Arden had seen too much, and Saeran didn’t want them to leave because of it.

The birds that sang outside told Arden that he should leave, or rather, that he had to. Arden hadn’t meant to sleep as long as he had, but evidently, he needed it. He usually had trouble sleeping in new, unfamiliar places, but drowsiness still weighed down his eyelids. He couldn’t pinpoint what sort of exhaustion it was, perhaps a mixture of all three—physical, mental and emotional. And so, Arden’s eyes were lazy as they focused on Saeran, their gases clashing as Saeran’s lips formed a small pout. He had been ready to leave (half buttoned shirt aside), and hadn’t expected such a statement. “I’ve slept through the night, Saeran…” Arden thought that they may be as embarrassed as he was about the whole ordeal, but this doesn’t seem to be the case.

Arden’s eyes dropped to where Saeran held onto his jeans, as if attempting to anchor him to the bed. Arden may have thought this to be inappropriate if it were not for the words that followed. They made Arden’s chest ache—Saeran considered him a friend. For a while, Arden felt as if he was being a hindrance, imposing himself onto Saeran in a way that might be deemed overpowering. But he just always WORRIED. Arden swallowed, a little thickly, as his fingers come to Saeran’s wrist. It wasn’t a gesture that would dismiss the other, but rather one that may provide comfort. Arden could feel Saeran’s pulse thumping against the delicate skin, and his grip flexed for a moment before he let go. Saeran wasn’t a fan of being touched, so he didn’t linger.

Arden wasn’t sure who needed who at this point, but the words were firm—Saeran didn’t want him to leave. Arden shifted, moving so that his back was to the headboard and his feet on the bed. He supposed he could wait a while and fulfil the request. Arden breathed in deeply, before exhaling a wearied sigh. “I could stay a little while longer,” Arden glanced down towards his companion. “So go back to sleep. I won’t leave before you wake up, I promise.”

They were used to being by themselves. They rarely even let Hoseok see this part of themselves. But with the sleepiness that gripped them, Saeran couldn’t find the energy to hide beneath the cold persona they’d cultivated. No, they just wanted to feel useful. Helpful. They didn’t want to feel alone.

At the touch Saeran found their eyes finally closing again. There was a sort of comfort in the others brief contact. It told Saeran that they respected that boundary. That some touches were just too much, but little ones… those were okay. They felt more intimate. Like they were made specifically for the sleepy mint haired twenty-year-old.

Right then in their exhaustion maybe they’d forgotten that they were supposed to be protecting themselves from letting other people in.

“Mmm…” They hummed, grip slowly loosening as the bed shifted beside them. Much to Salem’s dismay, Saeran’s arm rested over the small animal causing her to shift out from under him and paw across the pillows again, in search of a spot that wasn’t going to become occupied by more annoying humans. The cat wasn’t used to there being this many people around and much like her owner tended to dislike too much interaction.

“Arden?” Saeran mumbled. A part of them was fighting off the sleep that was calling them. It hadn’t helped that Arden had given him a blanket because now he was far too warm and cozy to want to wake up.

“Our first date was sweet like a caramel macchiato.”

As eyes had fluttered open that morning, Saeran knew that Halloween was going to be far more taxing this year than the years passed. The small mint haired person felt that heavy weight that sat on their chest that told them that things would just be much better if they never left their bed at all. If they just stayed quiet. For a while it had worked, that was until Salem began to whine loudly at her owner for her breakfast. The was the first thing to pull the artist from the thick blankets—they couldn’t let their pet suffer just because they couldn’t seem to pull themselves together. There had been days where they absolutely had just shut his cat out, allowing her to run amuck in their home while they lie in bed, feeling less and less like a person by the moment. The next thing that drew them out of bed was that they had promised to take Hoseok candy. Yes, it’d initially been a joke and their friend would never blatantly ask for anything but… Saeran did love him. What was a Halloween without the free candy?

So, with all of that in mind, the petite twenty-year-old dressed themselves. Tight black jeans. A sweater. Gloves with thick black and purple stripes across them to cover the worst of the burns that had begun to litter their hands as their seasonal depression began to wear them down. Another change in the seasons and though things were good Saeran still couldn’t seem to find the happiness they knew that they were supposed to be feeling. A white sheet was pulled over their head when they came to the last reasons front door, the only thing lending to their identity was the heavily made-up eyes that peered through the holes in the thin material. The day had gone by smoothly; so far there were no catastrophes in sight that might have been a good enough reason to stay in bed and ignore the holiday altogether (no matter how much Saeran did genuinely enjoy it). A small hand pushed from beneath the oh, so fitting costume to knock on the door.

 They didn’t know Arden well enough to know if their friend actually enjoyed the Holidays or if they, much like Saeran, spent them inside. 

What if he wasn’t even home? 

It made sense. Arden was attractive. He was a doctor. He was smart. Of course, he would be out at a party. It was also getting to be a bit late in the afternoon for visitors if Arden had opted to stay home and what if— The door pulled open before them and suddenly Saeran was very glad that they were wearing a sheet over their face because they knew for certain that the anxiety and stress that built within them was painted across the surface.

 “No,” Saeran replied, the anxiety suddenly flipping to another emotion that was growing to be more and more frequent when they were around Arden—one that made their face run hot and their hands cold. 

“Trick or treat.” They said in their most innocent tone, though the way the other was gazing at them made them falter. A sigh.

They flipped the sheet back to rest along their slender shoulders, one hand quickly reaching up to tame the green flyaways that the younger of the two felt shifting atop their head. Saeran had put a lot of effort into the way their face looked, despite the unassuming nature of the rest of them. No matter how pretty their makeup may have been-how the dark eyeshadow mixed near expertly with the red made their eyes seem all that more intense- Saeran didn’t feel good. That’s why they were wrapped up in a sheet, after all. “Give me candy, I wore a costume. That’s like, sort of the deal, isn’t it? You’re a doctor, you’re all about rules and shit.”

Arden wasn’t sure what he found funnier—the fact that the person beneath the sheet was indeed Saeran, or that their tone had done a complete one-eighty upon being discovered. In fact, he had found it so amusing that the hand free of candy came to rest on his stomach as he laughed. “’And shit’?” The laughter slowed, morphing into quiet chuckles. “Is this really the best you could do? You’re meant to SCARE me.” Arden’s index finger lifted to wipe at the stray tear that threatened to cascade along his cheek. The doctor could only wonder how many other homes they had hit whilst wearing this ridiculous costume. He let out yet another laugh, envisioning Saeran trundling along down the busy New York city streets. They were certainly one of a kind. “I am in no way giving you candy after you swore at me.” To drive the point home, the bowl was lifted out of their reach. “Plus, it’s for the CHILDREN…and those with good costumes.” Arden was teasing, this obvious in the way he spoke and how the corners of his eyes crinkled. He knew that he’d end up giving the other what they wanted in the end, as the night was already drawing to a close. Trick or treaters (those that were of the right age, at least) were fast approaching their bedtimes, and so he would be left with sweets that would lay uneaten and stale in his cupboards until the next Halloween rolled around.In all honesty, Arden was just relieved that Saeran had shown up. He was incredibly bored, to the point that he had reread the page he was on several times as it just simply wasn’t registering. His mind was wandering, worrying, and so it was taking everything he had not to start pacing his living room. But alas, came a distraction. The frequent visitations had continued since the night that Arden had broken down on the stairwell, resulting in the night spent in Saeran’s bed. For a while, Arden almost wanted to avoid walking up those steps again, to face Saeran on the other end. But he feared that if he were to actively avoid them, it would make him a COWARD.                “So,” He grinned, arm still well above his head. “What’s the magic word?”

“Did you expect me to go out and *buy* something? That’s really problematic of you, you know. Assuming that I have any sort of extra funding to afford a Halloween costume is just your doctor privilege showing, *Arden*. You and I are in entirely different tax brackets and you should be ashamed of yourself—what if I was a child and this was the best I could do? Would you withhold candy from me then?” Saeran spoke with a sort of drawl that was saved for only the times when he was being particularly playful, like when Salem wanted to jump across the furniture, or when he teased people who were just terrible at games on the internet. A smile pulled at his lips.

Saeran didn’t dream— they tended to be far too light of a sleeper to actually fully slip away from the world around them. They slept often as it was a nice escape, but it was never enough to completely let their mind rest. Nothing ever put their head at ease. They weren’t certain when they’d stopped dreaming, there was always the vague memory of waking up from particularly gruesome nightmares or losing themselves in desperately wanting another second with the likes of Jay Park and some other idol they had spent their teen years obsessing over. At this point in their lives, though, they tended to jerk awake at even the smallest of noises, small eyes fluttering opened and lips pursing in annoyance. Tonight, however, Saeran woke to the feeling of Salem moving to rest in the crook of their neck and shoulder as the blanket was rested over their small frame. Their lids felt far too heavy to look for the source of the disturbance, lips only parting just slightly to allow a small sigh to escape. Their concept of time didn’t exist yet, all that they had processed was that they had been cold and now they were very warm. Thin fingers reached to ruffle the cats dark fur as they turned their face into the animals warm coat.

How much time had passed since they felt the body next to theirs move? Their eyes finally opened, just barely as the little bit of light that trickled into the room through the curtains was too much for the reclusive twenty-year-old. Eyes finally rested on the man changing in their room, scanning slowly up their back as the shirts were switched. Had Saeran been more awake they would have found themselves more than a little flustered and quickly turning to cover their face and pretend to still be fast asleep, but the exhaustion that riddled their petite body hadn’t picked up on the idea that maybe they shouldn’t be watching Arden change. “Are you leaving?” Saeran asked, their voice soft. It was a different tone than what they generally used. This one held a note of innocence that was generally locked tightly behind the fortress they’d built up so high up around themselves. A small hand moved up to rub at the bleary eyes, attempting to wake up just enough to verbalize that they wanted the man to stay.

They looked small— hair curling at the ends from heat damage, eyes softer than they usually allowed themselves to be, features only a bit swollen from sleep, mouth set in something very close to a pout though it was unintentional— and they wanted nothing more than to pull the other back into bed so that they wouldn’t ever have to think about the other crying alone in a hallway ever again.

Arden was their friend.

Had it been Hoseok, or Jay, or anyone else that they allowed into the small world that they lived in, they would have done the same. Their hands moved across the sheets, fingers outstretched towards the other. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

His tin fingers gripped lightly at the man’s jeans. “We’re friends. Friends don’t let friends hurt alone.” He said simply.

As he stood there, shoulder propped up against the doorjamb, Arden was well aware that he was being over-protective. He couldn’t help it, it was so ingrained into the fibre of his being that breaking old habits would prove to be impossible. Arden was a WORRIER, something that would never change. “Don’t leave it too late, okay? It’s getting colder. Speaking of the cold, are you going to be wearing a jacket over that?” Mallory turned toward him from where she had stood in front of her mirror, applying the finishing touches. He was answered with an eyeroll. “I’ll be fine, Ardy. I’ll keep you updated with texts when we move to different bars.” Hearing her admit that didn’t ease the anxiety that lay coiled at the pit of his stomach, but he supposed that he would just have to take her word for it.

 Mallory click-clacked toward him in her heels, her features the picture of exasperation. “Stop pulling that face. You look constipated.” Her fingers reached to pull at his cheeks. “Smile!” Arden batted her hands away with a scowl. A laugh chimed as she made her way through the apartment they shared, searching for her keys to put into her purse. Arden watched on wearily, mouth twisted. His concern was only amplified because of what night it was—if it were any other evening, it may have lessened somewhat. Halloween was rife with drunkards and those looking for TROUBLE, he didn’t want his sister to get mixed up in that. But who was he to stop her? She was old enough now, he couldn’t dictate what she did anymore. Sometimes distancing himself from the role of her guardian, and into the role of her brother, proved to be difficult.

When she left him with a painted smile and the wiggle of her fingers, Arden slumped on the sofa. Mallory certainly lived a social life far more exciting than his, but he couldn’t feel bitter about it. He was glad that she was getting out there and finding her feet. But with that being said, it didn’t stop Arden pouring some red wine into a glass the moment she left him alone. Arden never did like to roam the apartment by himself. He settled onto the sofa and turned on the television, so that the background noise could keep him company. Arden hadn’t worked that day, so he hadn’t changed out of the sweatpants that he had woken up in. He had been thoroughly lazy, and he couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

His tongue wetted his thumb before turning the page of his book. Arden had been thoroughly engrossed until the ringing of the doorbell had his attention shifting. Trick or treaters. He had answered the door twice so far—most of the kids seeming to be ones that lived on the floor above. Arden came to his feet, padding across the carpet and towards the door. He picked up the bowl containing a wide variety of candy before turning the handle, allowing a wide smile to spread his cheeks.

So, with all of that in mind, the petite twenty-year-old dressed themselves. Tight black jeans. A sweater. Gloves with thick black and purple stripes across them to cover the worst of the burns that had begun to litter their hands as their seasonal depression began to wear them down. Another change in the seasons and though things were good Saeran still couldn’t seem to find the happiness they knew that they were supposed to be feeling. A white sheet was pulled over their head when they came to the last reasons front door, the only thing lending to their identity was the heavily made-up eyes that peered through the holes in the thin material. The day had gone by smoothly; so far there were no catastrophes in sight that might have been a good enough reason to stay in bed and ignore the holiday altogether (no matter how much Saeran did genuinely enjoy it). A small hand pushed from beneath the oh, so fitting costume to knock on the door.

 They didn’t know Arden well enough to know if their friend actually enjoyed the Holidays or if they, much like Saeran, spent them inside. 

What if he wasn’t even home? 

It made sense. Arden was attractive. He was a doctor. He was smart. Of course, he would be out at a party. It was also getting to be a bit late in the afternoon for visitors if Arden had opted to stay home and what if— The door pulled open before them and suddenly Saeran was very glad that they were wearing a sheet over their face because they knew for certain that the anxiety and stress that built within them was painted across the surface.

 “No,” Saeran replied, the anxiety suddenly flipping to another emotion that was growing to be more and more frequent when they were around Arden—one that made their face run hot and their hands cold. 

“Trick or treat.” They said in their most innocent tone, though the way the other was gazing at them made them falter. A sigh.

They flipped the sheet back to rest along their slender shoulders, one hand quickly reaching up to tame the green flyaways that the younger of the two felt shifting atop their head. Saeran had put a lot of effort into the way their face looked, despite the unassuming nature of the rest of them. No matter how pretty their makeup may have been-how the dark eyeshadow mixed near expertly with the red made their eyes seem all that more intense- Saeran didn’t feel good. That’s why they were wrapped up in a sheet, after all. “Give me candy, I wore a costume. That’s like, sort of the deal, isn’t it? You’re a doctor, you’re all about rules and shit.”

Loneliness was at home in the tiny apartment. It had overtaken the small twenty year old from the moment they’d moved in and gripped them like a vice— and Saeran had grown to welcome the comfort in hours of silence. No one was waiting on them. No one was thinking about them. No one cared. It was a blissful period of not having to live up to any expectations. Not having to be torn apart from the inside when they inevitably failed or experienced the failure of others. It was a selfish feeling, but one that allowed Saeran to thrive through the years of isolation.

They didn’t need to live up to any expectations if there were none.

That was until the moment that Hoseok had returned to them. Then suddenly Saeran was flush with feelings they’d long since repressed and hidden. It’d been too long since Saeran had allowed themselves to feel much of anything. Of course, they loved Salem, they tolerated their aunt, and they were perpetually annoyed— but nothing was like the sudden need to protect and care for those around them that came with the return of their best friend. Maybe that was why when they saw Arden crumbling in the hallway they felt the strong, overwhelming need to take him in. To protect him from the weight of that emptiness that eventually towered over and crushed even the strongest of people.

Saeran moved to their small kitchen, gathering up the tea and one of the few clean mugs they owned — they hadn’t quite gotten around to doing dishes yet, rather they were sitting in the sink waiting patiently for Saeran to happen to need something from it— and began their process of making tea.

“Don’t be stupid,” Saeran deadpanned. There was really only so much gentleness that could come from their small body before it became too daunting. Saeran assumed that by this point Arden knew well enough that they meant no harm. “I’ve seen a lot worse than someone who’s had a rough day. Holding shit in just makes us… it hardens people so, don’t apologize for being strong enough to deal with your own feelings.” Saeran didn’t look to the other as they spoke, rather they allowed their hands to work quietly through making the others tea. Saeran was usually the kind to shove a glass of water into the microwave and toss a bag in afterwards, but they didn’t want to half ass one of the few things that they could do to make the other feel better. Instead they stood at the tiny stove, boiling water in a small pot. Much like Saeran, most things that existed in the apartment were small and well worn. They didn’t have much money after their bills came out and then there was always the added issue of fueling their constant need to stuff their face with junk foods so, things like kitchenware and utensils were lost on the twenty year old. No tea pots. Very little silverware— but really how much did a family of one need?

Once they’d managed to get the tea to their own liking they moved back to the living room, resting the tea on the table. Saeran figured that the hand holding in the hallway had been enough touching for one day.

It wasn’t that Saeran even particularly hated to be touched, it was just another way their insecurities reared themselves. Other people coming into their space meant that they saw the raw, unrefined parts of Saeran; they saw the mess that they accumulated through depression induced exhaustion, they saw the way that their body was always scarred and bruised, they saw the anxiety flash across generally stoic features and the last thing Saeran needed was for someone to see through them. For someone to know that their last and only defense only relied on keeping people at a distance. If they managed to make their way in then Saeran really was helpless. They couldn’t protect themselves from hurt. They couldn’t protect themselves from sadness or loss. Levon had made sure of that— their parents had made sure of that.

The smaller of the two settled on the couch, hands resting lightly on their knees as they looked to the other, as if asking to be prompted through the conversation. “Uh… you… don’t need to talk about whatever happened if you don’t want to, okay? I just want you to know that whatever it was, it wasn’t your fault and you don’t have to feel that way by yourself. You can be here and… uh, when I’m stressed I sleep it off. So, if you wanted to just… sleep it off you can. You know where my room is— this can be home too.”

Arden stared at Saeran’s back, watching them move and talk as they flitted about the kitchen. He felt like a burden. Why, he couldn’t be sure—Saeran was being nothing but kind to him. Perhaps this was the reason why he felt like that. Arden was used to knocking on Saeran’s door, wearing a smile and holding a bag of whatever goods he’d bought that day. Sometimes, he brought along whatever his sister had attempted to bake. Of course, he selected the most edible of her bakes to bring along to Saeran. It was this, the unfamiliarity of not being the strong one that made Arden uneasy. That’s not to say that Saeran wasn’t strong either, it’s just that as the older of the two Arden felt as if he held a responsibility of sorts to be the confidant.  Saeran calling him stupid seemed more normal, and he would have smiled at the switch back to normalcy should he be absent of whatever it was that gripped him. Arden couldn’t even pinpoint the exact emotion. It was a combination of grief, inadequacy, and GUILT. Maybe if he’d just got there sooner… 

Arden ended the train of thought by pressing his fingers to his temples, as if would both quell his invading consciousness and the headache that had since started to form. Crying did that to him—a throb began at his hairline, to spread out until it made his eyes feel as if he were seeing double. “You’re probably right, but, ah…” Arden was just struggling to see that Saeran was right at that moment. He wouldn’t say that holding in emotions made him hardened, he just didn’t show them to other people. Arden held it until he couldn’t anymore, and when that dam broke, it broke behind closed doors. “Still, I’m sorry.”

Weight shifted on the couch, and Arden’s lowered head turned towards Saeran, gaze lifting slowly. It was only natural to ask what was actually wrong, but the thought of talking about it at that moment when it still felt so raw and new–it made Arden’s gut clench, as if he were to vomit. Lips pressed into a thin, white line, he shook his head. “I don’t want to. At least, not right now.” Arden should be THANKFUL that Saeran was willing to listen at that moment should he choose to divulge, but it was the last thing the doctor wanted. He had no desire to relive the days’ events. Arden reached for the mug that Saeran had put down for him, eyes fluttering for a moment as he took a sip. It was warm… Arden hadn’t realised how cold he’d gotten. In the drafty stairwell in which he sat for a good while, this shouldn’t have come as a surprise. 

 He’d only managed to drink some of the tea before it began to scold his throat. Breathing in deeply, Arden run his hands down his face. “If you don’t mind, Saeran, I’ll do that. Sleep, I mean. My head—” He frowned and stood to his feet. Mouth opening and closing for a minute, as if to find words that would put Saeran at ease. Arden was aware that he was being weird, and definitely not himself, but he just could not find a way to shake himself out of it. And so, he turned and made his way towards Saeran’s room.

His hands curled against his knees, made-up eyes scanning over the ripped material of his tight fitting jeans. Why was his chest aching, though?

Saeran didn’t often find himself hurting for other people, rather he would relate his own pain to others until he could pretend that he understood. He had long since accepted that he was painfully selfish and lacking of empathy, so why was he hurting for Arden? Or had he just developed a painful defect of the heart and that’s why his ribs suddenly felt too small and his lungs felt as is they would burst?

He felt brushed off. Like dust or a small, obnoxious pet. Still. He kept quiet, only moving from his seat on the couch once the man had moved to the bedroom.

Saeran wasn’t generally one for conversation and he hoped that the other wouldn’t take it too terribly personal if he stayed quiet. Talking was hard, talking about feelings was even more difficult and Saeran would just rather never do either ever again.

As the day shifted to night, Saeran found himself dozing off as he sat on the couch. He’d opted to play video games while the other rested. The icon at the top of the screen signaling that the sound was muted on the game had potentially burned itself into the large flatscreen — one of the few expenses that the twenty year old had maybe splurged a bit too much on— but it was a nice feeling to know that he wouldn’t be waking his friend up with his noise. It was something that he had found himself doing when Hoseok was napping too. But somehow it felt just a bit more urgent with the doctor sleeping away the day in his bed.

Darkly painted eyelids fluttered shut, his chin tucked against his chest, the only thing that jolted him awake was the steadily vibrating game controller in his small hands. A groan escaped him. He had long since died in the game and due to the way his eyes kept forcing themselves closed Saeran was unable to tell just how much time had passed. Things were running together. Time. Thoughts. Even Salem’s soft whining at her owners feet as she patiently waited for him to take her to bed. Much like Saeran, Salem preferred to sleep in her bed and at very specific times.

Saeran had a particular schedule— his sleep habits were constant and required much attention in order to keep them regular. He took at least two naps a day and then made a point to sleep early so that he had enough time to get work done before he needed to sleep again. The young adult hadn’t quite decided if the sleep was a side effect to the depression that riddled their body, if it was caused by their depression, or if they simply were never meant to be awake. They had a strong fondness for sleep as it was the only thing that distracted their ever so cluttered head from the incessant thoughts. It was the only thing that kept him calm. Collected. It kept him numb. If he wasn’t awake, how was he supposed to ever be hurt again?

Sock clad feet shuffled to their bedroom, a small black cat following quickly behind.

The mint haired artist paused in their bathroom, reaching for a few makeup wipes and began scrubbing at their caked on features as their journey to bed continued. It really did feel like an eternity before he came across the man laid out in his bed. Salem has no issue hopping into the bed and curling herself around the pillows. Saeran ,however, found himself staring hard at the tall man who overtook Saeran’s particularly small bed. It had never looked this tiny before— not even with Hoseok’s long limbs sprawled across it. His face was both damp (from the makeup wipes) and hot. Why was he staring? A hand reached up and tapped roughly against his cheeks as he slipped onto the farthest part of the bed from Arden, careful not to shift the mattress too much for fear of waking him. Reasonably, he could have slept on the couch but he knew Salem would whine until she got her way and the last thing he wanted was to wake Arden with an argument he had with his cat.

His small frame settled onto the bed, one hand carefully reaching out to flip the blanket over the others long frame. The blanket hadn’t been enough to cover the both of them due to one of their bodies being sprawled across the blanket, so it only seemed fitting that Saeran submitted and just gave the blanket to the doctor.

It wasn’t long after they’d rested their head against the pillows that their eyes finally closed for the final time of the night, thin arms crossed over their chest, and Salem perched comfortably on her owners stomach. Short, soft breaths slid from Saeran’s lips as they allowed themselves to finally rest.