hold me ♡ minsung

33. i'm terrified.

♡

JANUARY 28

   Jisung, thankfully, was not there this time when Minho woke up.

     Today, Minho's eyes fluttered open at the sound of his alarm, which meant, of course, that he'd slept through the night. Without waking up a single time. For the first time in weeks.

    He pushed himself up groggily, leaning against the concrete wall beside his bed, sighing heavily and sleepily as he rested his forehead against his palm, covering his puffy, half-open eyes, blocking out the slightest hints of soft, early morning light. Being alone this morning as he woke was probably the biggest relief of his life, but it did make him wonder how Jisung slipped out from under him and left the room without him waking up since he never used to be such a heavy sleeper. Picturing that sent a nasty chill down his spine, so he shuddered while goosebumps cropped up all over him.

   ...Out of all the things that could cure his sudden insomnia. Why that? 

    Well, at least he was back to normal, mentally. It was quite easy to tell, because all he had to do was think about being touched and see if he was immediately extremely repulsed by the thought... or if his chest clenched with yearning. (Ew! Why would he ever want that?)

    ...Yeah, he was definitely back to normal, now, so it was a good thing that Jisung left at some point, otherwise he'd be all but cowering in the corner of his room right now, after probably falling off his bed in an effort to get away from Jisung, fast, so there would be no more chances for their bodies to make contact.

   Again, he was so incredibly disappointed that he'd lost to his desperation. The memory of last night filled him to the brim with self-loathing, but he couldn't entirely regret it because it felt a little more possible to hold his eyelids up and raise his head this morning, and he didn't feel like he was literally on the brink of death anymore.

    Of course, he was still tired after weeks of sleep deprivation and an early alarm this morning, but after all that time without any satisfactory lengths of unconsciousness, four or so hours of rest with no interruptions, no staring hopelessly at the ceiling with red eyes, no listening to the voices in his head run in the same old circles, putting him through the same old torment, no more agony wracking his mind and body— it was enough. Enough to make him think... maybe he wanted something to change. Maybe he never wanted to go back to misery.

    Oh, and for once, he woke up hungry. That seemed like a good sign that he really was coming back to life. But then again, if his appetite had only shown up again as a direct result of Jisung's help...

   Did his survival literally depend on Jisung right now? That was an absolutely terrifying thought.

    Self sufficiency... The strength to carry his troubles alone— what Minho had been wishing for so intensely for so long now... it seemed to slip away more with every sleepless night. In the end... he couldn't handle it.

   He didn't want to depend on anyone, not his family, not his friends— not Jisung, but he didn't want to die like this, either (which he was pretty darn sure he'd gotten quite close to more than once at this point).

    So maybe... all that there was left to do was... "try". Like Jisung said.

    ...But what the heck did that even mean?

♡

JANUARY 31

   Something had to give.

    He refused to do this again— pretend he could handle all the weird aches and longings and itches for... well, you know what for... assuring himself he could endure them until they went away— and then make a fool of himself when he got too sleep-deprived to keep a lid on his desperation. So he was thinking a lot, and not just passively letting his mind throw whatever it wanted at him. The past few days, he was attempting to find a way to change this predicament he'd gotten himself into; this cycle.