The Ache of Being Known

by justhere

Summary:

“Lix I need you to keep him in this car, do you hear me?”

He nodded frantically, unsure of the reason behind the urgency but once again having confidence that Minho had his reasons.

“I mean it, Yongbok-ah. I can’t be distracted while I’m driving. Can I trust you to keep him safe?”

 

or

Jisung hadn't foreseen any of this coming back to bite him when he made the choice to become an idol years ago. Perhaps he should have, but it was a part of himself he never expected to be known.

Notes:

I procrastinated on my responsibilities by writing 20k words in one single day about the events of one single day.

Please heed the trigger warnings in the tags. There are NO graphic descriptions of any of the mentioned triggers, but they are present and a major theme throughout the entire story. If you finish reading and think that I need to include something else, please let me know <3

Disclaimer that I am making absolutely zero assumptions about these people, their situations, or their relationships. I am using SKZ as a template for this 100% fictional story. All sidecharacters other that SKZ members are completely made up names / OCs.
Second disclaimer that I wrote this on a whim and therefore I have not even read through it to check for typos / overused words / mistakes / consistency / etc. Maybe I'll fix it later. But no need to mention any of that to me for now XD

Chapter 1

3:28 PM – Han

Unformed thoughts and jumbled words clogged his already tight throat to the point that Jisung wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to breathe again. He understood quite well what needed to be said; he’d been working up the courage to say it for what felt like hours – and might have been, truthfully. He wasn’t sure what time it was as he left his phone at home in his frenzied rush earlier that day. Probably sitting right on the kitchen counter, next to the pot of ramen he had been preparing for his lunch-

“I- I don’t know if I turned off the stove,” he choked out, none of the words he intended to say- none of the ones he needed to say. But they were the first coherent words he managed to utter since he set foot in this building.

As soon as his mind latched onto that thought, it filled his brain with nothing but images of the liquid boiling out of his soup, unattended on the stove in an empty apartment, until there was nothing left to boil, leaving the contents to burn and burn and burn until they set aflame. It would start in the kitchen, sure, but how long would the flames go unchecked until the fire alarm would pick up on it? How far would they reach before emergency services would arrive? Would they make it to the living room? The bedrooms? Up through the ceiling into the apartment above theirs? How much damage would be done? Would the destruction be contained to their dorm, burning all of their possessions, or would he be responsible for the harm to other people’s homes? Would they be able to evacuate in time?

His brain latched onto this sequence of events instantly because even the potential disaster he created seemed to be a more favorable outcome than the other potential disaster that had plagued his thoughts ever since- Stop.

Perhaps Hyunjin had been on his way home and fixed the problem before it had become an emergency. He didn’t know what the other was up to today.

Actually- “No, I did. I turned it off.” He remembered removing the pot and even trying to force down a bite of food before he’d given up and left the dorm in search of-

Would Hyunjin think it was weird? When he did eventually return home and found Jisung’s uneaten lunch and probably his phone- what time is it, anyway? When was Hyunjin supposed to be home? Hadn’t he sent him a message to ask that very question after he gave up on the meal?

Changbin wouldn’t find it. He went to the gym. He went to the gym before their studio session- oh, I should be at the studio right now! He was surely late- had he thought to let Chan know? What am I doing here, I need to-

“Sit,” a voice commanded.

Jisung felt like someone dumped ice water over his head, snapping his eyes back up from the floor where he had lost himself in the uneven grain of the carpet- suddenly a bit farther away as he’d abruptly stood up. The doctor sat as calmly as ever, boring brown blazer and over-gelled hair mocking Jisung’s own stained sweatpants and old socks- socks? He dropped his gaze back down to the floor, noticing the absence of his shoes. I didn’t forget those too, did I? That’s ridiculous-

The man cleared his throat to grab Jisung’s attention back and he realized he was still standing and not obeying the previous order. It reminded him immediately of what he was doing here in the first place, and suddenly he needed to get out- not to head to the studio anymore, but to-

“Mr. Han.”

The voice was even more authoritative this time around, and it stopped him in his tracks on the way to the door behind him.

Should I- no, he was here for a reason, and he couldn’t leave now. Just really-

“Please sit back down,” the doctor commanded yet again.

Jisung didn’t allow himself a single moment to reconsider the request, moving back on shaking legs to sit again. He tried grounding himself, sliding his hands underneath his thighs and squeezing the muscle in the back of his legs. He felt the grating, scratchy material of the upholstery on the chair beneath him scraping against the backs of his hands. Despite being a nondescript, soft blue color, the fabric felt almost like burlap, and he was endlessly thankful for the thick material of his clothes so that he wasn’t subject to the feeling of the harsh textile against any more of his bare skin. The chair looked like it belonged more in a public library than sitting in front of a giant wooden desk in a cramped office.

“The stove is fine,” the man said with an air of finality. Jisung wondered why he was bringing up stoves all of a sudden. “Can you try again?”

Try again?

Oh- Minho had already called Chan; he didn’t need to let him know about missing their studio time.

This time, his gaze was stuck on the wood grain of the desk that separated him from the doctor. The swirling pattern was glaringly visible in the light color of the wood itself; it was reminiscent of the way water flowed through a river when you sat very, very close and paid attention to the small details of the current around obstructions like rocks and bracken. The kinds of details you would never notice when looking at it from above- far above- Stop.

The color was similar to his first work desk, back at the old dorm. Not the same, though, because this desk was huge- way too big. What did he keep in his drawers to need this much space? Probably patient information. Or is that all digital nowadays? What protected confidential information online from hackers, though? One leak could mean- well, was it any safer than paper copies? Less wasteful, too. Anyone could pick the lock of the desk drawers. Or they could be destroyed permanently, if there was ever a fire.

Fire? Oh shit, did I turn off the stove? He got up right away. I can’t believe-

“Mr. Han. Sit down, please.”

Okay.

“Would you like me to repeat my question?”

Yes. The silence stretched. Why won’t he-

“I asked what brought on these suicidal urges?”

 

 

1:20 PM – Felix

The sound of the front door shutting carelessly overrode the tinny clash of metal on metal in his headphones as his teammates continued battling on the monitor in front of him while Felix let himself be distracted for a quick second.

He hadn’t checked what time Minho said he was leaving the company exactly, but it didn’t seem like that much time had passed since he said he’d pick them up some takeout for lunch on the way.

Must just be some fast food, then, he thought.

“Hyung!” he called out, slipping the right side of his headphones off his ear as he refocused on his game. “What’d you bring?”

No one answered right away, but that was perfectly in character for Minho. He often refused to yell from one room to another because it ‘wasn’t a proper way to have a conversation.’ He would either wait until he was finished with what he was doing before coming to you or expect you to come see him personally if it was urgent enough.

Felix huffed a laugh to himself at the continued silence and decided to just finish his match; he was sure the food would be there when he was done.

He’d only just immersed himself back into the game when he caught sight of someone passing by the open door of his room, headed further inside the apartment.

“Hyung?” he tried again, quieter now that he was closer, without taking his eyes away from the screen.

He heard a confused noise before the person was backtracking to his door again.

Jisung appeared at the door, wearing an oversized t-shirt and his favorite lounge sweatpants that he never allowed to see the light of day. “Hyung?” the other mumbled.

Felix squinted his eyes a bit, still only observing with quick glances without really taking his attention away from the ongoing match. “Ah- no, sorry- I thought you were Minho-hyung,” Felix laughed. On his next glance over, he noticed Han hadn’t taken off his sneakers when he came in.

“Is- is hyung here?” Jisung asked, shifting his weight between his feet and pulling on his fingers the way he does when he’s nervous before a public appearance.

Felix’s brain was already in the zone for split-second decision-making thanks to the game he was currently engaged in, so he listened to his instincts and pulled the headphones off completely, letting them hang around his neck as the noise of artificial fighting faded with the movement.

“He’s on his way back from the company,” he replied, his attention evenly split between preventing his character from dying and sneaking even more looks at his friend in the doorway.

He noticed his eyes were looking wider than usual, but otherwise just seemed to be a bit nervous. It wasn’t odd to see Jisung here looking for Minho – Felix firmly believed they had something going on behind closed doors whether they were willing to admit it to the others or not – but he wasn’t used to seeing the other look this nervous out of his makeup and styled wardrobe.

Felix wasn’t usually Jisung’s go-to choice for comfort like this – not that he took it personally at all, of course – but that didn’t mean he wasn’t capable and willing.

“What’s up?” he asked, keeping his voice easy and calm.

Jisung shook his head and stepped away, turning to walk back towards the kitchen, mumbling an “mm, just-“ before he moved too far for Felix to hear.

Worrying…

“Hey, Jisungie,” Felix called out, eyeing his game less and less until he decided that the other’s lack of response was worrying enough to forget about the game altogether. He swiveled around in his gaming chair and was about to get up when the other appeared back at his doorway, inquisitive look on his face.

“He’s coming now?” Jisung asked, voice wavering.

Felix’s eyes widened in concern. “Yeah,” he answered, turning back to his computer to exit the game completely with no regard to his teammates’ success. “Why don’t you give him a call really quick to see how far away he is now?”

When his desktop background overtook the screen, he turned back to see Jisung patting his hips like he was looking for something. Felix knew those sweatpants didn’t have pockets, though. His brows furrowed, confused as to what Jisung was doing all the way over here without his phone, not knowing where Minho was, no thought to taking off his shoes, and shaking like a leaf in the hallway of an apartment that wasn’t his own.

Had he walked all the way here alone in that state?

“Ah- I’ll just-“

Without even completing his thought aloud, Jisung was turning again to leave. Felix’s heart jumped in his chest, though. “Wait up,” he called, standing quickly before he could even push his chair back and causing it to wobble a bit. This time, Han didn’t make his way back to Felix’s room. He got caught on the headphone wire as he tried to move towards the door, awkwardly pulling them off his neck and dropping them carelessly back into the chair. “Sungie, wait!”

Out in the hallway, he could see Jisung shuffling quickly back to the front door. He stopped at Felix’s words, but didn’t turn back around.

“Are you alright?” he asked, approaching less hurriedly than before.

“Yeah,” Jisung said immediately, turning to face him but clearly avoiding looking up at Felix’s worried gaze. “I’m just- I was just gonna- I’m sorry-“

Felix watched the way the skin of his hand went white with how tightly he was squeezing his opposite thumb. “It’s- hey, it’s okay.” He felt a bit like he was talking to a scared animal, the way Han’s whole body seemed to flinch in such a miniscule way that Felix would have missed it if he wasn’t standing so close now. “Why don’t we go wait for him in my room?”

Jisung was shaking his head before Felix even finished the question. “No, no, it’s fine- I’m sorry, really. I’m sorry. I’m just- I’m gonna-“ he moved towards the door again, and Felix reached out to grab his wrist reflexively.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he insisted, softening his voice even more. “No point in coming all this way only to leave before hyung even gets home, right? Don’t say sorry- we can go hang out in mine.”

“Your game,” Jisung exhaled in barely a whisper.

“I don’t even know those guys,” Felix answered immediately, tightening his grip on the other’s shaking arm before moving down to massage his hand instead as Jisung released his death grip on himself. “Plus, one match isn’t going to fuck with my stats. Let’s go hang out.” He tugged gently, and despite looking like a soft breeze could knock him over right now, Jisung’s feet remained firmly planted right there by the entrance mat. He didn’t verbally object this time, though, so Felix counted that as a win.

“Let me get those for you?” he asked, gesturing to Jisung’s sneakers. If he could get him out of his shoes and snuggled onto Felix’s bed, it would be easier to keep him from running away before he could even figure out what was wrong.

“I can- I can do-“ Jisung cut himself off, but didn’t even make any moves to remove the shoes himself. Felix swallowed heavily; he really had never seen his friend quite like this- especially not when it was just the two of them around. Even in this very flat, Jeongin probably knew more about the details of Jisung’s struggles from when they used to be roommates, and he knew that Seungmin and Jisung had been a lot more reliant on each other in the past couple of years, but neither of them was home right now.

Instead, Felix just released his hold cautiously before kneeling down, worried that he would bolt the moment he let go. He didn’t, thankfully, and Felix was able to pull the knots undone and loosen the lacing fairly quickly.  “Go ahead,” he urged Jisung to step out of his shoes. When he started to obey after a few seconds of silence, Felix was able to see how unsteady he was on his feet with the intensity of the trembling through his legs, so he was quick to stand and hold onto the other’s elbow, slipping their hands together out of habit.

Now in his socks, Jisung looked up towards Felix again for another command, finally making eye contact. Close up, Felix could tell his pupils were blown big and constantly shifting between each of Felix’s eyes and other points on his face.

“Let’s go?” he prompted, leading Jisung back through the hallway to his bedroom. He shuffled silently behind, barely lifting his socked feet across the wooden flooring as he followed Felix. Only once did he attempt to pull his hand out of Felix’s grip, but all he had to do was squeeze a bit to hold on before Jisung was tightening his own fingers over his. He led him directly to his messily-made bed, gesturing with his free hand. “Hop on.”

Felix felt through their joined hands when all of Jisung’s muscles tensed, like he was a runner at the starting whistle of a race, body instantly reacting to run, but the movement had settled before Felix even had time to react. Almost like it never happened. Still, he squeezed even tighter just in case, tugging gently towards the bed.

He climbed on first, hoping it would make it more inviting, and Jisung was awkwardly clambering in after him. He was back to looking anywhere but towards Felix, and Felix wanted nothing more than to see him relax right now until Minho was home and he could help better. “C’m’ere,” he muttered, pulling Jisung up with him towards the headboard. “We don’t have to talk.”

He was hesitant to let go of the other for even a second lest he take off back to the front door, so it took some maneuvering to get the pillows propped up in a comfortable way to rest back against them, but he finally settled in enough to position Jisung in front of him, leaning against him. With his arms fully wrapped around the rapper, it was almost like he could feel the shaking coming from deep in Han’s core, somewhere in his chest, between his ribcage, expanding from there out to every extremity.

It didn’t take any more words, but the physical pressure of Felix’s arms squeezing their bodies together had him untensing at least his shoulders almost instantly.

“Don’t let me leave,” Jisung whispered.

 

 

 

1:43 PM – Minho

With a tired sigh, Minho mechanically tapped in the door code and scanned his thumb, waiting for the little green light and clicking sound to push open the front door to the apartment. He was awkwardly holding a takeout bag and his duffel bag that had fallen off of his shoulder in the same hand, swinging it all through the gap of the door without a single ounce of grace, bumping the doorframe carelessly.

He’d probably need a nice hot shower before he dug into his lunch. He’d packed his bag intending to shower and change at the company after dancing, but he hadn’t sweat as much as expected despite finishing later than planned and decided that it was worth it to commute in his workout clothes for the comfort of showering in his own bathroom this time.

He toed off his shoes, dropped the plastic bag of food onto the counter, and was about to pop by Felix’s room on his way to his own to let him know lunch was here when he heard voices. It couldn’t be Felix’s game- he never played with the volume out loud and always muted himself. Perhaps Jisung had stopped by after all – he’d sent a text a while back asking where Minho was, but then never responded to any of Minho’s follow-up texts and questions.

He rounded the corner towards their bedrooms and popped his head into Felix’s open door curiously with an “is Hannie here?- Oh?”

Felix was kneeling on the edge of the bed, gripping onto the sleeve of Jisung’s t-shirt, who looked like he might wrench it right off of himself with the way he was trying to get away, stumbling over his feet.

“What are you two-“ he cut himself off, trying to decide whether this was playful wrestling or something more serious when he caught sight of the desperate look in Felix’s eyes. “Hannie?” he called, dropping his duffel down on the hallway floor before stepping fully into the room.

Jisung froze where he was, twisting around to look at the newcomer. He looked like he was absolutely torn between fight or flight, and Minho recognized the unfocused look in his eyes right away as suppressed panic. He didn’t have too many of these moments anymore, and in the 2 seconds of thought that Minho spared to it, he didn’t think it’d ever happened at home and while the sun was still up. Nonetheless, he was quick to act, opening his arms instinctively for the younger to step into.

“Let go, Lix,” he said gently, not accusingly. He didn’t know what Jisung had been doing or saying to make Felix think he had to hold onto him like that when he clearly didn’t want to be there. Jisung hesitated for only a moment longer before launching himself into Minho’s arms, slipping his hands up in between the older’s jacket and t-shirt.

Minho let his arms drape down slowly, feeling Jisung’s chest trembling against his own. His mind was suddenly alert again, fatigue evaporating instantaneously and replaced by an all-encompassing worry. He knew not to let any of that through, though – he knew Jisung like the back of his hand. Any emotion other than calm would make things worse, even concern.

“Hyung,” Jisung whined, burying his face deep into the crook of Minho’s neck. “I’m so sorry, oh my god, I didn’t mean-“

“Hey, none of that, no need for sorries, Sung,” Minho cut him off, not quite understanding what he felt sorry for but knowing that he needed to cut Jisung’s circular thoughts off before he spiraled deeper. “You’re alright, Hannie.” His voice took on a quiet, gentle tone that couldn’t be heard by anyone more than 2 feet away from their little bubble. “Let’s go over to mine?” he suggested, pulling away from the embrace just enough to prompt them towards his bedroom for some privacy.

He didn’t even manage to step back fully with one foot before he was yanked back against Jisung’s body, knocking him a bit off-balance. He let out a surprised noise, causing Jisung to let go completely and take a step back of his own, apologizing all over again.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, hyung. I’m just- I’ll just-“ he didn’t finish that thought, gaze glued to the floor as he tried to sidestep Minho to leave the room. Even his tone was wobbly, despite the lack of tears in his eyes. Minho didn’t want Jisung to feel trapped, but he simply didn’t want to let the younger leave his sight right now in this state.

He made a tutting noise, putting himself back between Jisung and the door to Felix’s room. “Sung, you’re alright- we’re alright. We can stay here.” He held his hands back out, palms facing up in an invitation for more contact.

It was, predictably, met right away. Jisung grabbed his forearms before pulling them back to press against one another fully.

“So-“

“Shh,” Minho shushed him immediately, already sensing the apology before he’d opened his mouth. “I said we’re alright Ji, I wouldn’t lie to you.” Jisung’s body was so close, his leg slipping between Minho’s and trying to melt against his front, hands gripping desperately at the older’s biceps.

While this may have been vaguely familiar territory, it was worrying to not know the cause. Usually Jisung got this way when he was nervous for a public appearance, solo schedule, or sleep deprived and overworked. As far as he knew, 3racha had already met their deadlines and moved on to making headway on future projects, and they weren’t even set to begin preparations as a group for any material for another month at least.

Minho slid his hands over Jisung’s shoulder blades, the thin t-shirt only slightly hindering the flow. The movement dislodged Jisung’s grip, the younger's hands coming through the open front of his zip-up hoodie to hold onto his waist instead as he tried to take a deep breath.

“Don’t let me go, hyung, please,” he said, with a desperation in his voice that almost made Minho’s breath stutter even through his soothing front.

“’m not, Hannie,” he whispered against the soft curls beside his face. His hair still smelled strongly of his shampoo – must have just washed it this morning, he thought. Minho caught Felix’s saddened eyes over Jisung’s shoulder and squinted a bit in sympathy. “Lix, could you-“

“Yeah,” the younger understood his request before he could even speak it, moving around them with a wide berth and heading towards the door.

“There’s food on the counter,” Minho mumbled as Felix slipped out and closed the door gently behind him. Minho wasn’t even remotely bothered about kicking Felix out of his own bedroom, his energy entirely devoted to the man in his arms.

He wanted to ask what was going on, what caused him to break down like this, but he knew that Jisung wouldn’t be able to say a word about it until he calmed down a bit.

Speaking of that, chest to chest, Minho could feel the stuttering breaths that Jisung was trying to take, getting more worked up as he failed to complete each exhale entirely. Minho kept his hands moving in a consistent pattern over the younger’s back and shoulders, staying quiet and letting him work through it on his own; he usually only stepped in if Jisung asked for help breathing.

The older managed to keep his breathing constant and deep, successfully keeping his worry buried deep even when Jisung’s fingers dug into his back, nails scraping even through his thick shirt. Several minutes passed and Minho got worried Jisung might pass out if he wasn’t able to get ahold of his breathing; he was about to speak up when the younger pulled back suddenly, just enough to lift his chin off of Minho’s shoulder and hold him at almost an arm’s length.

Minho was a bit surprised at the sudden change, but smoothed his hands down Jisung’s arms until they settled down closer to his wrists instead, the younger’s hands now resting closer to Minho’s hips. What unsettled him was the way Jisung’s eyes were frantic – still looking resolutely over Minho’s shoulder instead of at him, flicking around the room focusing on something different every quarter of a second. Still, he said nothing, even when his eyes found something to lock onto.

“We should sit down,” Minho offered, knowing how lightheaded he often got when feeling panicked. At the lack of a response, Minho tried following Jisung’s gaze, twisting his body a bit to look behind him at the sliver of sunlight peeking through the mostly shut curtain over the window. “Want me to open that?” he asked, removing only one hand to gesture towards the window. It was getting a bit stuffy in here. “We could get some fre-“

“Don’t let go of me,” Jisung interjected in an almost-yell, ripping his stare away from the window to finally lock eyes with the older.

Minho startled, quick to school his expression before Jisung picked up on the emotion. He calmly turned himself back fully to face Jisung again, hands sliding back up his bare arms and under the hem of his t-shirt sleeves and teasing his fingers over the sensitive skin there.

“I’m right here, Sung. Let’s sit down,” he said, taking a deep breath. This was venturing into uncharted territory and it took effort to stay present instead of imagining scenarios that could have caused Jisung’s state. He lowered them both to the floor, moving to sit against the footboard of Felix’s bed and pulling Han in without letting go so the younger could stretch his legs out across Minho’s lap and rest his side against his chest.

Jisung didn’t hesitate to press his temple into Minho’s collar bones, hand coming up to hold onto the edge of his jacket, the zipper teeth probably digging into his palms with the force of his grip. “’m gonna jump out the window,” he choked out as his breathing became ragged once again.

“What?” Minho huffed, the words not clicking in his brain right away. “No you’re not- I wouldn’t let that happen.” They were on the 14^th floor; he absolutely would not be jumping out of Felix’s bedroom window.

Jisung coughed, breath caught in his throat, before repeating himself. “I want to. I’m gonna.”

“Let’s breathe together,” Minho countered instead of addressing that insane comment. That, he could do. He was familiar with breathing exercises, not admissions that Jisung wanted to launch himself from a 14^th story window.

He rested his hand comfortably over Jisung’s wrist, squeezing rhythmically to indicate when to inhale or exhale. It took a few minutes of no change for Minho to lose his patience. The feeling of Han’s heartbeat hammering against Minho’s fingers gently pressed to his pulse point was really starting to affect his own composure as well.

“Baby,” he said, voice shaking just a bit. “What do you need from me?” Usually, asking open questions didn’t get him anywhere when Jisung wasn’t well, but he was at a loss and his words from earlier were really starting to stress him out.

“Please don’t let go,” he repeated in a strained whisper, trying to pull Minho closer with his grip on his jacket.

Minho let his arms wrap more fully around Jisung’s body, practically crushing them together. “I’m right here, Hannie. I’m worried you’re going to pass out on me. What’s going on, hm?”

Jisung just shook his head and whined, burrowing his head even closer, forehead glued against the side of Minho’s neck. He could feel the way his skin was warmer to the touch, his forehead a bit sweatier than even Minho had been at practice earlier, and he hoped Jisung was too caught up in his head to notice how the older’s heartbeat had begun to pick up in response.

“Baby, what’s got you so worked up? I can help. I’m not going anywhere,” Minho continued, twisting his head uncomfortably to press a kiss onto the other’s temple.

“I want- I’m- I think I’m gonna kill myself.”

Minho felt a chill run down his spine at the unexpected confession. Calm, calm, calm- “That’s not going to happen right now, okay? I’m not going to let it.” Stay calm. “Alright?” What brought this on? He’d never- Calm. “You’re safe here, I’ve got you.” Is that why he messaged earlier? Had he been feeling like this ever since-

Jisung’s breath stuttered again on another aborted inhale before he released his hold on Minho’s jacket, pushing weakly against his chest despite staying close. “I- I- I didn’t- I didn’t mean- I just want- I can’t- I want to stay here-“

“You will,” Minho interjected, certain in his words. Nothing could possibly take Jisung away from him right now, not even Jisung himself.

“-but I’m gonna go- I’m gonna leave and go ri-right up to the roof-“

“Hannie, baby,” interrupted Minho again with a gasping inhale, unwilling to listen to such a terrifying image for a moment longer. “We’re alright- you came here instead. You made the right decision.” Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. “A-and I told you I won’t let that happen. Yeah?”

“No hyung,” Jisung insisted, his voice getting louder and more frantic. “I- there’s no other- I have t- there’s no… no time t-“ his objection was cut off by his own coughing.

“We’ve got all the time in the world, baby. We can stay here all day if we need to- all night. I’m not going to let you go- I’m not going to let you die. You’re safe. We’re safe.”

“No!” the younger wailed, pushing himself away abruptly. He might have succeeded, too, had Minho’s reflexes not caught him before he could escape his arms fully. Perhaps he yanked him back down a bit too roughly, but the shock of the movement seemed to stun Jisung back into compliance for the moment. Minho didn’t think he could truly be blamed for such a reaction, either. Jisung had just been begging him to not be let go for fear that he would make a terrible choice- Stay calm.

Minho gulped. “Hannie, maybe we can call Dr. Kim- see if she’s available for an emergency consultation or something.” He didn’t want to admit that he felt so out of his depth here and that he wasn’t nearly as calm as he was presenting. If Jisung’s words were an accurate reflection of his mental state, Minho didn’t feel qualified to handle this – not in the sense that he didn’t feel he could provide the right comfort Han needed, but more so that he would never ever forgive himself if anything went wrong and… and Jisung’s therapist of the past two years would be much better equipped. Perhaps they’d even discussed similar… thoughts…

The choice seemed to make Jisung pause, awkwardly sprawled back across Minho’s lap after his attempted escape. Minho hoped he was reading things right and that Han’s hesitance was a sign that he agreed with the idea but was too embarrassed or ashamed to ask for it.

Without even giving him time to deny it, Minho solidified the decision. “Give me your phone- I can call for you, baby. Let me handle this.” He tucked Jisung more comfortably against himself, straddling the older’s legs now, chest to chest.

He dug his chin into Minho’s shoulder, forehead against the wood behind Minho’s back. Like this, he could feel the younger’s hyperventilating breaths even closer, feel his heartbeat intimately in a way that felt like his own.

“I forgot it,” Jisung choked out eventually.

“Okay,” Minho replied quickly. “Do you- do you know her number?” Head shake. “What- like- what group- like medical group is she under? I’ll look it up.” Head shake.

Minho cursed himself for not being more involved in the process before this. Jisung preferred to handle it all himself and Minho never once pressed for more information.

“Does anyone know?” he continued, refusing to give up at the first roadblock. He said he would handle this, so he would. There was no other choice. “Managers? Channie-hyung?”

“… Maybe?”

“Alright- I’ll just give hyung a quick call and see if he can help, yeah?” He removed one arm from Jisung’s back to reach for his phone in his jacket pocket.

The younger started moving away again, making even less progress this time as Minho’s grip was even stronger now. “Hyung, he’s busy. It’s fine. And she’s busy too, I need- I don’t have an appointment, there’s no- hyung, there’s no way-“

“Hannie, please. It’s her job. I promise you are not the first one of her patients to have a crisis and need help outside of an appointment. And if she’s busy, if she can’t see you, then she’ll be able to give us another solution, okay? It’s not wrong to ask, and we’re going to get help either way.”

It was silent again as Jisung processed his words, his breathing evening out a bit as he spent his brain power on thinking. About what, Minho couldn’t be sure.

“But… Channie-hyung… I’m supposed to go meet him later… He’s already there. Maybe I’m late- it’s too much…“

“So you miss it, Hannie. It’s just a studio session, today, yeah?” A nod. “I would bet every cent I have that hyung would rather I interrupt his work right now than find out you were feeling this way and didn’t let him help. Especially with something as easy as a phone call. It’ll be so quick- I’ll just see if he can get in contact with her office to either get you in last minute or ask for a backup plan. Yeah? Easy.”

While Minho was trying to ease Han’s worry with his words, he was easing his own along with it. When Jisung body language told Minho that he was receptive to the idea, the knot in his chest unwound. This would be fine.

 

2:11 PM – Felix

“Lix, could you come here?”

Felix didn’t waste a second responding to Minho’s verbal call, dropping his spoon carelessly back into the plastic takeaway container where he had been pushing around the rice aimlessly for the past few minutes, appetite rather light suddenly.

He ditched the half-eaten meal on the table, heading back to his bedroom where he gave a quick knock for politeness before inching the door open.

He peeked inside to see the two of them curled up on the floor at the base of his bed, Jisung hiding his face in Minho’s neck and the older’s eyes immediately finding Felix’s.

“Could you sit here for a minute while I go pack a bag?”

Pack a bag? For what? Instead of asking, he simply hummed and nodded, eyes a bit wide in confusion. Where were they going? Why did he need a-

“Up,” Minho mumbled next, and Felix tried to close off his ears to their whispered conversation, but it was impossible in the close quarters. “Sit here, baby,” he said, prompting Jisung to sit on the edge of Felix’s bed, gently prying the rapper’s fingers away from his arms to put them in his lap. “Do you want a hoodie?” Jisung tugged on Minho’s jacket wordlessly, looking up at the older imploringly. “Baby this one’s dirty. Sweaty and stinky. I’ll get you a good one, yeah?”

Felix shifted uncomfortably between his feet, feeling like he was intruding on something private. Just as he shifted his gaze to the floor, he caught sight of Minho gently grabbing Jisung by the chin and placing a kiss right onto his pouty lips. “2 minutes,” he murmured, stepping away.

Felix didn’t have even a moment to be surprised – am I even surprised? – before Minho was putting his hands on his shoulder as he passed by on his way out of the room. They made firm eye contact, and Felix instantly clocked the serious look in the other’s fixed stare. “Stay put. Please.”

Again, the younger could only nod, and he knew the worry was visible on his face because Minho gave his shoulder one extra pat as he left, snagging his forgotten duffel bag from the hallway before heading further into the apartment.

Felix turned his attention back to Jisung, perched as far on the edge of Felix’s bed as he could manage without falling off. He looked like he was ready to run, but his head hung low and despite his hair blocking his eyes from Felix’s view, the rest of his body language was clear enough to reflect his panicked state. His hands wrung together in his lap, and before Felix could even take a step towards him, he was standing and quickly trying to make his way around Felix.

He barely got his hands on Jisung’s arms before Minho’s authoritative voice rang out from around the corner, out of sight but clearly still vigilant: “Sit, Jisung. Stay put.”

Jisung seemed to hesitate, and Felix took it as his cue to manually maneuver him back to the bed. He stood right in front, stance widened so he could stand up close with his knees knocking against the side of the bed with Jisung’s legs in between his where he sat. Like this, the other’s head was level with Felix’s diaphragm, and he instinctively reached forward to thread his fingers through Jisung’s hair. It was too tangled to run them through the strands, so he simply scratched at his scalp lightly with his blunt nails and massaged his fingertips along the roots.

“What’s going on?” Felix asked, voice wavering a bit.

Jisung didn’t answer, only hung his head lower. Felix couldn’t see much from where he was standing above him, but he could see the deep red flush of his skin on his cheeks and snaking all the way down his neck to where his t-shirt was covering up his chest. He resembled a scolded child, not aided at all by the way his shoulders folded in on themselves making him look even smaller than usual.

Felix almost regretted asking the question, worried it was making Jisung even more self-conscious, but then the other detangled his hands and slid them up carefully to wrap around Felix’s lower back to pull him closer in a hug. He buried his face in Felix’s stomach, so he accommodated the movement easily by wiggling his fingers around to the back of his head, holding him close while continuing his comforting actions. It can wait.

Minho popped his head in, a relieved but otherwise unreadable expression on his face before he continued past on his way to the kitchen. Jisung didn’t even look up.

Eventually, they were pulled out of their moment of calm when Minho returned, shoes and hat on and a mask pulled below his chin.

“Do you have plans, Yongbok-ah? Would you come, please?” the older asked, approaching and gently shouldering Felix away from Han. He dropped his duffel bag onto the bed next to Jisung, kneeling down to slip Jisung’s sneakers onto his feet.

While Felix processed the questions, Minho tied the shoes swiftly and stood to yank one of his enormous grey hoodies over Jisung’s head, sneaking a glance over at Felix.

“I- yeah, I can… Where are-“ he replied, interrupted by Jisung’s objection of “hyung, it’s- I’m- we don’t have to-“ while his face was still buried in the fabric of the sweatshirt Minho was dressing him in.

The older pulled it down over his head before leaning down to meet his eye level. “Work with me, Hannie,” he said, the tone much softer than the words themselves. “Arms through,” he commanded, gently as ever. Jisung obeyed.

What have I just agreed to? Where are we going?

“Car keys please, Yongbok.”

His brain stuttered, things moving too quickly for him to catch up and he was stressed about being kept in the dark. He was quick to check himself, though, and acknowledge that Minho didn’t get like this often and it was better to follow instructions now and ask questions later- he must have a good reason. Instead of inquiring, he just hummed his agreement, checking his pocket to confirm he had his phone and heading out to the front door where they kept the single car key hanging with the strict understanding with management that it was to be used for emergencies only.

While he was there, he slipped his shoes on and glanced around, mind racing to think if he needed anything else. How long would we be gone? Do I need my wallet? What about- It was hard to feel prepared to leave when he didn’t even know where they were going or when they would be back.

Minho and Jisung were moving through the hallway towards him before he could spiral too much, both buried in jackets, hats, and masks with the duffel bag thrown over one of the older’s shoulders. “I’ve got a mask for you too,” Minho addressed Felix as he approached. “Just wait ‘til we’re in the car.” Then, he was pushing past to open the door and herding Jisung out into the hallway and towards the elevator with a firm arm around his waist.

Felix got the hint that he was meant to follow right away and sped past them to press the call button for the lift. Soon enough, they were huddled together in the empty box, descending to the basement car park in silence.

“Where are we going?” Felix asked again, voice soft but still carrying in the enclosed space. He watched how Jisung’s suddenly became very interested in the upper corner of the elevator in clear avoidance.

“North of the city,” Minho answered instantly. “Sinyeon psychiatric medicine center. 45 or so minutes away.”

Felix’s eyes widened. Psychiatric medicine center? Like an inpatient facility? A psych ward? His gaze flitted to Minho’s bag, but it looked too empty and deflated for anything like that. He caught the dancer’s eyes again, who seemed to understand his thought process without words.

“Just for an appointment,” he clarified. “Dr. Kim wasn’t available. It’s perfectly safe, they deal with high profile clients all the time.”

He released a breath, still concerned but less so. When the doors dinged open, Felix checked the key fob for the label with the number of their parking space. He couldn’t even drive himself, so he never needed to remember it before considering it was so rare they needed it anyway.

326, 326, 326, he repeated in his head, leading the way somewhat as the numbers ascended the closer they got to their spot. Finally, he recognized the deep grey color of their Kia sedan with the numbers “326” painted in fresh white paint below it.

Minho pushed past as Felix unlocked the doors using the button on the fob. He stood back as the older threw open the back door, tossing his duffel across to the opposite seat before ushering Jisung into the middle seat and strapping him in. The rapper tried to protest once again at this point, but Minho shut it down immediately with the firmness of his hands and voice. Next, he turned back to Felix, gesturing towards the open seat.

As he approached, Minho placed his hand on the side of his neck, fingers grazing his vertebrae and his palm guiding his face up to look him in the eyes. “Lix I need you to keep him in this car, do you hear me?” he asked in a whisper, probably hoping Han wouldn’t overhear. He nodded frantically, unsure of the reason behind the urgency but once again having confidence that Minho had his reasons. He moved to climb in, but Minho’s grip only tightened, causing him to stay in place. “I mean it, Yongbok-ah. I can’t be distracted while I’m driving. Can I trust you to keep him safe?”

Felix nodded once again, a quiet “of course, hyung,” escaping before Minho let him go to jump in the driver’s seat. Felix sat down, pulling the door closed behind him and releasing a breath as the car stuttered to life. What danger am I keeping him safe from? Is someone following us? Is he going to try to hop out at a red light? The last thought sounded likely with how fidgety and eager to run away Han seemed. Out of habit more than obligation, he slipped his arm through Jisung’s, clasping their hands naturally as the sound of Minho’s phone GPS began attempting to guide them out of the parking garage.

Everything in him wanted answers – wanted to know if Han was okay, why this was happening so suddenly. Instead, he channeled that worry through physical touch, as usual. His hands never stopped moving, squeezing up at down Jisung’s arm and hand, smoothing down his thigh, scratching at his upper back. He noticed Minho checking on them through the rearview mirror no less than 10 times per minute, it seemed.

Eventually, Han wordlessly shifted so he was laying on his side across the seats, head pillowed on Felix’s thighs and feet curled up behind the bag on the opposite side. Felix couldn’t imagine it was comfortable at all with the seatbelt buckle digging into his side and the strap pulling on his stomach, but he simply let it be. He dropped one hand to smooth over the other’s chest and stomach while the other wormed its way into his hair again.

The ride felt like it took hours. There wasn’t a crazy amount of traffic, but Felix could sense Minho’s impatience every time they had to slow down to account for other cars on the road with the way he tapped his fingers quietly on the leather steering wheel. It was quiet, not even the radio turned on, accompanied only by the occasional direction announced by the robotic voice function of the GPS.

They did eventually pull into a parking lot, well outside of the city and even on the further outskirts of whatever township they ended up in. It was almost remote; he understood what Minho meant by high profile clients now. It made complete sense why celebrities would need to leave the city behind to seek more intensive psychological care, for both privacy and recovery.

The two-tone sound of the finished journey sounded before a resolute “you have now arrived at your destination.”

Jisung made no move to even sit up while the engine was cut and the keys removed. “I’m going first,” the older announced, twisting around in his seat to survey the situation in the back. “Wait here for me?” Felix gave an encouraging nod, certain that he could hold things down out here until he returned. While his thoughts had plenty of time to spiral during the drive, they also had time to settle.

Felix watched him jog towards the unassuming concrete building. Had he not known Minho on such a personal level, he might have mistaken the older’s stoicism and direct delivery all afternoon as agitation or frustration, but it was easy to see the fear beneath it all. It was precisely why Felix continued to keep his mouth shut and follow orders.

He glanced down at his lap to see Jisung’s eyes unfocused but still staring at the back of the seat in front of them. He scratched up and down his arm, something he’d already tried a few times during the drive, and Felix was quick to envelop the other’s hand in his own to stem the impulse.

At the touch of his hand, Jisung was pushing himself up haphazardly, looking around somewhat dazedly. Despite appearing rather expressionless, his eyes were giving away every thought that passed through his mind and Felix wondered if he had any idea. He seemed to register that Minho wasn’t there anymore, twisting his head around to see if he could find him, but the older had already disappeared through the main entrance. After some time of stillness, Jisung was suddenly moving again, pushing clumsily at the buckle and leaning towards the door on the opposite side of the car, but even if he did manage to free himself of the seatbelt and wrench the door open – which he didn’t – he wouldn’t have gotten far anyway with how Felix instantly wrapped him up again in his arms like an octopus. Minho’s words rang in his ears: “keep him in this car … keep him safe.”

“Hyung’s coming back,” he said, hoping it would be a comfort to the other, but it made him struggle against his grip even more, breath picking up again. It reminded him too much of when Minho had arrived back at home, sending Jisung into a panic with mumbled words about needing to leave and “sorry, sorry, sorry.” Even then, his instinct had been to hold on even while he struggled in his hold. “Jisung, it’s gonna be okay,” he tried instead. “We’ve come all this way, let’s try to see it through, first.” He didn’t want to guilt the other at all, especially not with how fragile he seemed at the moment, but he wasn’t sure what type of words usually comforted Jisung when he was nervous because he usually stuck to more physical methods when faced with his anxiety.

“Lix, please, I just need to-“ he whined, still struggling to undo his seatbelt when Felix caught sight of Minho reemerging from the glass doors ahead.

“Look, here he is now,” he gestured with his chin, unwilling to remove his arms out of fear that Jisung would slip away.

Minho jogged up to the side of the car, unlocking the doors and pulling Felix’s open. He took stock of the situation and took charge easily. “Hannie, we’re going inside. They’re waiting for us.”

Jisung shook his head vehemently, the force of it almost loosening Felix’s grip.

“Lix, grab the bag and step out for me,” Minho ordered calmly with an even tone, taking a step back to give him room. Felix cautiously let go of Han and reached over to pull the bag out, unbuckling his own seatbelt and climbing out quickly before the other even had a chance to get back to work on his buckle. Minho was sliding into his place quickly, sparing half a second to tell him, “mask in the bag,” before focusing his attention on Jisung again.

Felix stepped away towards the front of the vehicle to give them some privacy, rooting around in the main pocket of the duffel for the mask. Fabric, plastic bottles and packaging, phone chargers… He finally found one in the outer pocket after almost a minute of blind searching, sliding it on right away. He knew it wouldn’t do much good to hide his identity, given his long, dyed hair would be enough to give him away. He pulled up his hood for added security, but he didn’t see a single other soul around, even the parking lot was less than a third full. Every once in a while, he snuck a glance back through the windshield, but he couldn’t see anything through the tinted glass, and the voices coming from the open door to the backseat were low enough that he didn’t hear anything.

As Felix pulled out his phone to scroll through Instagram to distract himself, a breeze blew through making him shiver, so he turned to face the other direction so his hood would block any more. Upon unlocking his phone, he noticed there wasn’t any service here anyway. Before he could get too bored, the two were shuffling through the open door, Minho’s hand stuck to Jisung’s waist in what looked like a bruising grip and Felix was slowly coming to terms with the necessity of such precautions as the day went on.

He watched dumbly, feeling a bit useless, as Minho kicked the door shut, locked the car, and led the way back towards the building. Felix felt a bit like a lost child, shuffling his feet behind them to keep up with the brisk pace the older had set despite Jisung’s visibly shaky legs. He felt like his job was done – Minho had asked him to come along to keep an eye on Jisung while he drove – and now he wasn’t too sure of his role anymore.

Upon entering the sliding glass doors, he adjusted the strap of the bag over his shoulder, doing his best not to feel out of place in a facility like this. The lobby desk was to the right, huge and wooden with a marble-looking top and either glass or plastic partitions standing tall. However, Minho only gave a brief bow towards the staff there before marching them straight past and down the hallway directly in front. Felix followed his lead, sending his own cursory greeting before catching up right before the older made a left turn. There were a couple of doors they passed on the way, open and closed. He did his best to be respectful and keep his curious eyes from peeking into any of the rooms they crossed.

When they reached the end of that hallway with nothing more than an emergency exit ahead, Minho knocked on the farthest door on the right. It was already ajar, so he poked his head inside. Felix caught sight of Jisung’s muscles tensing, turning his head a bit as if he were about to take off again before he froze upon seeing Felix right behind him. Minho, too, swiveled around and steadied the rapper with both hands now instead of just one. It was easy for him to notice the panic seeping through the older’s collected demeanor, and that alone had Felix’s heart feel like it was up in his throat.

“Is that Mr. Han?” Felix heard a woman’s voice come from inside the room.

“He’s right here,” Minho responded, pulling himself together and moving them both into the room. Felix followed a decent distance behind, not sure if he was supposed to follow them inside. Minho nodded at him though, and he shuffled in behind them.

“Please make yourselves comfortable, Dr. Yoon will come by to collect you as soon as he’s available,” the woman spoke again. She wore regular business clothes, a long skirt with a blazer on top – she didn’t seem like a doctor or a nurse herself, and the way she left them in the room, closing the door on her way out, solidified that.

Felix took a glance around as he stood awkwardly near the closed door. The room was stuffy and small, longer than it was wide, nothing but a sofa against the wall perpendicular to the door, a small coffee table in front of it, and a tiny, empty desk with only enough space for perhaps a laptop and some papers placed right next to the door paired with a cheap blue rolling chair. Despite being a corner room, there wasn’t a single window, adding to the claustrophobic feeling of the space.

He observed as Minho settled Jisung onto the sofa before sitting next to him. Despite there being plenty of space on the other end, Felix settled himself in the rolling chair as it was closer to him, dropping the duffel bag onto the desktop.

Minho took the make yourselves comfortable invitation seriously, pulling Jisung’s shoes off and moving the younger around until they were huddled up on the sofa with Jisung’s legs stretched out across the length of the couch over Minho’s own lap. He removed both of their hats, tossing them on the coffee table, before tugging his own mask down below his chin.

Felix kept his on – despite the private room, he was still feeling incredibly out of place and uncomfortable. He wanted nothing more than to be helpful and comforting, but the lack of knowledge about what was going on hit him full force once they entered the sterile building. The vibes were screaming “I’m not a hospital, look – I have a sofa! I’m so warm and welcoming!”

He sniffled; the silence in the room was honestly stifling. Minho glanced up at the sound, offering him a tight smile. Felix lowered his gaze back to the floor when he noticed Jisung reaching his hands up to squeeze against the back of his own neck, looking more stressed than Felix had ever seen him, and he felt like an intruder all over again.

Should I just go wait in the car?

“Lix, could you pass me a water, please?”

He brought his attention back to the bag on the desk, zipping it back open to find one of the plastic water bottles inside before leaning forward to hand it over. Minho unscrewed the top, taking a few sips before holding it in front of Jisung’s face in a silent request. The rapper shook his head, but Minho simply lowered the other’s mask and gestured again.

“Feel like ‘m gonna throw up,” he rejected it again.

“2 sips,” was Minho’s only reply, and Jisung immediately unwound his hands to take the bottle.

“You can have some too,” the older said to Felix, nodding towards the bag. Felix didn’t even know if he was thirsty, but he turned to grab one of his own to give the two some privacy. It was odd – they were all incredibly touchy with one another – and Felix was even one of the biggest perpetrators of that. Not to mention Felix already has his suspicions about those two’s relationship. Nonetheless, witnessing their interactions in such an intimate, vulnerable situation felt like he was seeing something he shouldn’t be.

Before he knew it, he had gulped down half of his own bottle of water. So much for not being thirsty.

Not even the stress and confusion saved him from the utter discomfort and boredom of the next twenty or so minutes. He was plagued with anxiety of wanting to go over to the others on the sofa to offer some commiseration, maybe some cuddles, but he was glued to his spot assuming that he would just be interfering and that Minho clearly had things handled here. Every time he heard Jisung’s breath hitch, Minho was whispering words of support before Felix even registered something was amiss.

By the time there was a knock at the door, Felix felt… tired? Perhaps that wasn’t the right word; his brain was exhausted, but there was an energy thrumming under his skin that prevented him from feeling properly tired.

It took more reassurances from Minho before Jisung stopped panicking in front of the doctor who had come to fetch him for his appointment. The older left him with another kiss to his temple and ushered him out of the room still in his socks.

“My office is right this way,” the doctor had said, voices fading as they walked. Minho watched the two walk away until they disappeared into a different room before reentering their small waiting room. He even left the door cracked open just in case.

With the longest exhale Felix had ever heard, Minho threw himself back down to sit on the sofa. The younger’s eyes squinted in compassion for the older dancer. He twisted back towards the duffel, reaching for one of the protein bars he noticed earlier. Minho probably hadn’t had a chance to eat anything for his lunch yet; he hadn’t even showered. He didn’t… smell per se, but he had clearly come straight from practicing.

At the first sniffle he heard, Felix abandoned the idea of the snack, snapping into action instead. He rushed over to the couch where Minho was leaning against the side farthest from him, elbow propped up on the arm and hand covering his mouth while he looked away towards the wall. “Hyung,” he said, sitting as close as he could and wrapping his arms around the other. “Hyung, are you alright? What’s going on?”

“I’m fine, Yongbok-ah,” he insisted in an admittedly wobbly voice. “It’s fine, everything’s going to be fine now that we’re here. It’s going to be fine.” He didn’t return the hug, but at least he allowed himself to be embraced. Felix wedged one shoulder between Minho’s back and the couch cushions, resting his chin on the older’s shoulder.

“Are you worried about Jisungie?”

“I’m-“ he let out another heartbreaking exhale. “He told me he- he was worried he might- try to… try to kill himself.”

Felix froze, not having expected that response one bit. He might have even forgotten to breathe – I thought it was just a really bad panic attack. Suicide? He instantly thought back to when Jisung had first arrived at their apartment. What could have happened if he hadn’t listened to his instincts and let Han walk away the multiple times he attempted to?

Minho lifted one hand and squeezed Felix’s arm where it was wrapped around his chest, startling Felix’s breath back. “It’s going to- he’ll be fine, I’m sure. He wouldn’t tell me why- couldn’t, maybe, I don’t know. So we just- or…” He paused to take another deep breath. “I’m sorry, Yongbokie. I didn’t mean to be short with you.” Felix shook his head to deny the accusation but allowed him to continue regardless. “I just- I couldn’t do it myself. They’ll be able to help him here. Thank you for coming. I’m sorry.”

“Hyung, you did the right thing,” he asserted first. “I didn’t realize it was so- I mean of course I believed you, I just- I didn’t expect… What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Minho said, voice sounding even more watery than before. “He… He kept saying that if I let him go, he was going to, like… jump. Off the roof or something. So I asked Channie-hyung to call Dr. Kim’s office – I was stupid, I didn’t have her number or- whatever. So hyung had to hang up to call, and Jisung just kept saying something about- like- ‘I have to tell the company’ and ‘I can’t do it,’ like over and over again, and he wouldn’t tell me what.” He paused to wipe his nose with the back of his hand. Felix tightened his arms. “But then Dr. Kim wasn’t available and hyung had them make a last-minute appointment for him over here instead and just- like, send over his file or whatever. I don’t know how it works, really.” His next breath sounded a bit less shaky.

“You did the right thing,” he repeated, hoping Minho was internalizing it. “They’ll be able to help here.”

Was it an impulsive thing, or had he been feeling this way for a while? He knew Minho wouldn’t have the answers he wanted, and was probably worried over the same things, so he didn’t bother to ask to save them both the stress.

Rather, he said, “could you- do you want something to eat? I can grab one of the protein bars.”

Minho just shook his head, settling down further into the cushions and, consequently, Felix.

Felix took his own deep breath. He racked his brain for anything to lighten the mood, help Minho relax while they waited. “What was all that ‘baby’ about, hm?” he asked teasingly. “And the kisses? Oh my god.”

Minho snorted weakly. “We kiss sometimes.” A pause. “Often.”

Felix’s heart would have soared if not for the circumstances. He loved love. “Are you guys a thing?”

“A thing?” the older mused. “I guess. I don’t know. We’re just… us.”

 

 

3:39 PM – Han

“Mr. Han!” the doctor called yelled after him, but he was out the door before he’d even finished the utterance.

He needed to get out. Emergency exit – he saw the big red letters on their way in, where were they now? He turned his head left and right, spotting it immediately at the end of the hallway. He ran on wobbly legs, vision tunneling into the neon sign that seemed too far away. If he hurried, he might be able to find the railway that he heard on the drive in. That’s a quick way to-

“Hannie?”

He collided with another body mere feet away from his salvation, strong arms holding him up when he lost his balance. Startled, he looked up right into Minho’s big brown eyes.

“Hyung, I-“ he gulped.

“What’s up? What’s wrong?” he asked.

What wasn’t wrong? But Han didn’t want to worry him even more. “I- I just… um… need to use the bathroom.” Did that sound convincing?

He watched Minho level him with a calculated look as he took a breath.

Please…

“Okay. Let’s go.”

Let’s?

The older led him a couple doors down, and Jisung lowered his head to not be faced with Dr. Yoon who had rushed after him, only stopping once he had seen Minho with him. He heard more footsteps rounding the corner and didn’t want to face the mess he’d just made, allowing Minho to communicate with them all non-verbally before pushing them both inside the single-occupancy toilet.

So that’s what he meant by ‘let’s.’

Well, now he would have to either swallow his pride and use the toilet right in front of the other, or admit that he had been lying. Something told him Minho already knew.

The dancer flicked the lock shut, striding over to the toilet and closing the seat and lid. “Sit for me, baby?”

His heart swooped.

“’m sorry, hyung.” Shame, shame…

“I’m not upset.” Jisung followed instructions and sat on the cold toilet lid. “I just want to know what happened. Were you uncomfortable? Did Dr. Yoon say something to you?”

“No.” Yes. “It wasn’t… him.” Was it? Jisung wasn’t sure if he was reading things wrong, victimizing himself. Didn’t want to make baseless accusations. “It’s me.”

It felt like his brain was working on 3x speed while the world around him was passing on 0.5. There was no time for his mind to form cohesive thoughts – how could he trust his own brain right now?

As soon as he mentioned the call from the police, Dr. Yoon’s expression became judgmental.

 

“You can’t tell anyone what I say, right?”

“Provided that you are not committing a crime or a danger to others, that is correct, Mr. Han.”

 

A danger to others. Committing a crime. He would never, why would he jump right to that? Is that what people came here for? He supposed it made sense. Celebrity shows up wanting to die to avoid public shame and embarrassment following bad decisions. It wasn’t too far off from- Stop.

I’m not the criminal here.

Minho stepped up into his space, snapping him out of his thoughts instantly. Jisung reached out for him instinctively, hands finding the older’s hips like magnets. The dancer’s own hands fell down to his shoulders, one sliding up his neck to cradle his chin and tilt his head up.

“Tell me what you’re thinking?” he asked, his voice so soft that Jisung’s heart could have broken.

I can’t tell you. You’ll never look at me the same. But it was too late now. Jisung knew he had two choices here. One would end in everyone in his circle, maybe the whole company, knowing his deepest secrets. Even then, the rest of the world might find out too. The other was death. And still they would likely find it out. One week. But at least he wouldn’t be there to see the aftermath-

“I’m gonna be sick.”

Minho observed him. He must have determined that Jisung looked as bad as he felt, because he helped him shift down onto his knees facing the suddenly open toilet without another word.

“Wait, baby,” he instructed when Jisung went to lean his elbows forward. Jisung whimpered but obeyed. The older wiped down the already pristine-looking edges with some paper towels. The movement made him dizzy. “Go ahead.”

He leaned himself fully over the bowl, feeling so nauseous at the idea of this being his life prospects now, when just this morning he was feeling so content. It was a normal day. The idea that he had even reached a point where his normal state was content was crazy in itself. He should have known it was too good to last.

Minho’s hand rubbing up and down his back made his skin crawl, but it wasn’t unwelcome. He leaned his forehead into his palms, hovering over the toilet while his stomach rolled.

“Hyung, I can’t do this,” he whined, the words coming out involuntarily in his vulnerable state. They were true though. He body forced him to gag, surprising even himself with the force of it. “Jesus,” a cough. “Fuck.” He had to release his hold on his forehead, elbows not feeling stable enough to hold him up on the toilet bowl with the slippery fabric of the sweatshirt sleeves threatening to send him face-first into the clear water below. Gripping the bowl more firmly, he squeezed his eyes shut so he didn’t have to see the bile coming up.

After he managed to stop coughing, there was a wad of toilet paper on his chin already cleaning up without him needing to lift his hands – or his head.

“Better?”

Jisung still didn’t open his eyes, but at least he could breathe now. He sat back on his heels, the smell of the toilet perpetuating the sick feeling.

“Sung?” Minho persisted, but Jisung was just too tired to respond. “Sung, you didn’t… you didn’t take anything, did you?”

Take anything? “No?”

“You can tell me, baby. Hyung won’t be mad.” He sounded scared.

Oh. Oh. “N-No, hyung, I-“ he cleared his throat and swallowed heavily, disgusted at the taste in his mouth. “Sorry. No, I didn’t. I swear, hyung. I swear.”

Minho wordlessly held his pinky out to him and Jisung didn’t have to think about intertwining his own with it. It seemed to put him at ease.

“What are we going to do, Hannie? Do you want to keep talking to Dr. Yoon?” He paused as the question sunk in.

Maybe… but…

“We can find another solution, if you want it. If you’re not comfortable with him. This isn’t the end, baby. I’ll find a way.”

His cracked heart splintered even further.

“Could you…” Rip the band-aid off. “Could you be there?” He’ll find out one way or another. “I- I need you.” It’ll be harder this way. Or will it?

“Yes,” the older exhaled, scooting closer over the cold tiles. “Yes, of course.”

“And Lix?” Rip the band-aid off.

“If you want, of course.”

“Now?” Rip the band-aid off.

A knock at the door made that decision for them. “Everything alright in there?” someone asked. Clearly Jisung had exhausted their patience. Minho only patted him on the back.

“We’ll be right out, thank you,” the older called back, too loud in the enclosed space. “All good?” he asked, focused back on Han.

Good? No. “S’fine. ‘m not gonna be sick again.”

Minho planted a soft kiss on his forehead before standing to close the lid and flush the toilet. He hauled Jisung up with hands under his armpits. He was thankful for the layers of clothing between, not wanting Minho to know how sweaty he’d gotten. He didn’t feel steady on his feet just yet, but Minho didn’t let go.

“Hannie.” Yes, hyung? “You can do this.” Oh. “You’re so capable that you have no idea. I know this feels like the hardest part, but you’ve come all this way. I know how difficult it was for you to make it this far, okay? Everyone here wants the best for you- e-everyone here wants you to be around no matter what.”

Standing straight suddenly seemed like an impossible task. The floor didn’t even feel like it was under him at this point.

“Please, Hannie. Help us help you.”

Jisung nodded, looking desperately for Minho’s face, needing to see him. “I just- I thought he- I think he’s just-“ Breathe. “I don’t think he likes me.” Pathetic.

“The doctor?”

Yeah.

“I’ll fix it. Let me fix it.”

Okay.

It felt like he blinked, and suddenly he was being ushered past strangers (hovering outside the bathroom?) back into the room where it all began.

The door closed behind him; Felix crowded into his space instantly and he craved nothing more than his dear friend’s cuddles.

 

 

3:50 PM – Minho

Minho rolled his shoulders back, taking a deep breath before he moved to reenter the room where he’d left Jisung with Felix mere minutes ago.

He wasn’t sure exactly what Dr. Yoon had said to make Jisung react that way, and while he didn’t want to doubt the younger’s words, he knew that mid-panic Han wasn’t the best at reading people’s intentions. He tended to assume people weren’t fond of him even without any of these extenuating circumstances, so he simply wanted to keep his distance and view things objectively.

That being said, he couldn’t risk Jisung being any more uneasy right now. He would never open up if he so much as suspected the doctor was holding preconceived notions and judging him before he even opened his mouth. Apparently, there wouldn’t be another doctor available for another twenty minutes, and Minho calculated the risks before agreeing to give Dr. Yoon another chance. Jisung seemed to have gained some steam and Minho thought it would be best if he didn’t make him wait and risk losing that motivation.

He did, however, make sure the doctor was aware of Jisung’s hesitance with him, and they both decided to continue in the first room, the one with the sofa, to accommodate the extra bodies. Dr. Yoon would join them as soon as he gathered his things from his office.

Minho gave a warning knock before pushing himself inside. They hadn’t sat down yet, Jisung standing with a mostly empty bottle of water in his shaking hands. Minho shot Felix a grateful look where the younger dancer was saddled up to Jisung’s side, fanning him with one hand and holding his bangs off his forehead with the other.

The older smiled in greeting before moving over to grab his bag. He dropped it on the floor next to the sofa to make space for the doctor, not before snagging his bottle of hand sanitizer and exchanging Jisung’s water bottle with a big dollop. Placing both bottles onto the coffee table, he slipped his own shoes off and climbed onto the sofa, back against the armrest and legs spread – prime cuddle position.

Felix caught his eye and grinned; while Han was still rubbing the sanitizer into his skin, Felix guided him towards Minho and into the open space between his legs. Jisung stumbled, a bit surprised, but quickly pulled his legs up to scoot closer.

Minho smiled softly, dropping another quick kiss on the side of his head before tugging him closer to rest his back fully against his chest. Felix climbed up soon after, placing Han’s feet in his lap, fingers playing absentmindedly with the old, loose elastic at the bottom of his sweatpants.

Minho settled a little. Even though he could still clearly feel the way Jisung’s whole body was wracked with trembles, he couldn’t lie that it didn’t make him feel wonderful to know that Jisung wanted him here with him.

“I’m really sorry,” Jisung’s admission broke the comfortable silence.

This time, Felix reacted more quickly. “What’s all that for?” he asked lightly, teasing almost. “We’re all good, Jisungie.”

“I’m sorry you have to be here,” he continued.

Minho wasn’t sure if he meant here at the facility, or here in his appointment with him, but Minho was certain both himself and Felix would do it again a thousand times before expecting Jisung to handle this on his own.

Before he could say as much, Dr. Yoon was knocking on the door and letting himself in.

Minho felt Jisung tense, but he flattened his hand over the younger’s sternum to keep him grounded. They didn’t look very… professional right now, but Minho wasn’t as concerned with that as Han usually was.

The doctor closed the door, set up his computer and a notepad on the small desk, and seated himself on the rolling chair. From Minho and Jisung’s position on the sofa, they were directly facing the door, which was close to facing the doctor head-on as well. It was perhaps a bit daunting, but Jisung managed to keep his breathing steady.

The doctor was quick to get everyone’s consent to being present before thanking them all for coming.

“I’d like to start where we left off, Mr. Han. But first,” he began, “I wanted to clarify that my role here is not to intentionally misconstrue your words. I am committed to understanding and helping you find the best solution for your unique situation. Alright?”

Minho nodded approvingly and Jisung bit his lip as he nodded as well.

“So, you told me that you were contacted by the Seoul National Police Department earlier today, is that correct?”

He nodded again.

“Could you tell me more about that? What was the reason they gave for the contact?”

Jisung’s hands came up to nervously run along Minho’s arms; he could feel the way the younger wasn’t even aware of the movement.

“Mm, well they- they called my parents, and my parents ga-gave them my… my number.” He paused, but no one said anything. “I- I don’t know where to start. It’s a- a- a long story.”

“Take your time,” Dr. Yoon stressed.

Minho, however, felt like he was leaning over the edge of a cliff, holding onto his footing only through the help of a flimsy tree branch that cracked and threatened to snap, sending him careening down into the misty nothingness below. Police?

“D-Did you ever hear about… did you ever hear about the Han Kangmin case?”

There was a pregnant pause as everyone processed the words.

Snap.

Minho’s ears rung as he fell, hands grasping for anything to slow his descent.

“I’m familiar with it, yes,” Dr. Yoon responded, but Minho couldn’t hear through the sound of his blood rushing in his ears.

 

Memories from middle school. His parents discussing at the dinner table the absolutely 'heinous actions,' the 'vile' behavior, 'barbaric acts', the unforgivable, shameful choices made by one Han Kangmin that had dominated the news cycle for weeks.

Minho’s parents even made it into a lesson. Told him “you know you can always tell us anything, right son? If anyone ever makes you do something you’re not comfortable with, if anyone ever hurts you, if anyone ever says or does something inappropriate, you know you can come to us, right?”

“Of course, mom.”

It was even embarrassing the way she turned it into a discussion on consent, on appropriate conduct for intimacy, how adults in his life should and shouldn’t be approaching him. Minho’s cheeks flushed and it was an uncomfortable memory he knew he’d never forget, but he endured it because he could tell how shaken up his parents were.

 

Minho wasn’t certain if the length of the silence was accurate or if time had just paused all around him. He felt cold, shivers running down his spine. He knew he was jumping to conclusions, but-

 

The perpetrator’s family member, the victim, referred to as ‘A’ was a minor – their identity kept secret for their safety.

 

“That’s my… my uncle.”

Minho was certain he looked like he’d seen a ghost. Felix was glancing confusedly between the doctor, Jisung, and then lingering on Minho for some reason. He must have looked wild, but he couldn’t spare a thought to what his face looked like. Not as long as Jisung wasn’t able to see his expression.

He had told him, sitting curled up on Felix’s bedroom floor as he panicked waiting for Chan to return their call with the plan, that Minho would never look at him the same. He didn’t want to make him think that statement was right – because it wasn’t. He just needed a minute to recover from this information. That’s all.

“He’s- I was-“ Jisung continued. “You know he was sentenced. 12 years. He’ll… He’ll be, um, released. Next week. The call was to tell me. To warn me? I don’t know. No- to inform me, they said. Apparently they- they do that? For victims of violent crimes…?”

Violent crimes. Minho was sure his stomach had dropped into his colon or something. My Jisungie?

Dr. Yoon, for all his professionalism, looked remarkably composed. “Did they mention any protective measures that might be available to you?”

 

 

5:13 PM – Bang Chan

The choppy sound of voices cutting in and out of a dropping call were simultaneously the most frustrating noises and the most welcome.

Chan wasn’t sure he could listen a moment longer.

“I’m gonna disconnect. I’m losing service,” he announced to the only other occupant of the vehicle. He tapped the red button to exit the virtual meeting room on his phone sending the whole car into silence.

The meeting would continue on as planned, but Chan was secretly grateful for an excuse to tap out. His world felt shifted on his axis. He went to close out his tabs to conserve the phone battery but caught a glimpse of the internet tab his still had open from earlier, the MBC news article glaring its white background and bold black text. His throat felt tight.

He hadn’t ever heard the name Han Kangmin in his life until about ten minutes prior, and he wished he never had. While it wasn’t something he ever gave a single thought to before, he couldn’t help but think it should be illegal to publish such details about sexual assault crimes even with the victims’ names removed.

Victim. His Jisungie. A victim.

He felt like he was privy to information that he never should have known. Because… would Jisung had ever told him – them – if this hadn’t happened? He regretted ever looking it up. He felt disgusting, like it was somehow Chan’s fault that Jisung’s hand was forced into sharing something so deeply personal prematurely.

It wasn’t, of course. But his logical brain was lost somewhere between all of the heavy phone calls.

 

First, Minho’s practiced calm informing him of a mental health crisis involving Jisung that he needed help with. It was easy to handle despite his worry, making two quick calls. Changbin had arrived at the studio while he was on hold, and Chan didn’t hesitate to send him down to the cafeteria in the meantime.

When he returned, Chan tried to send him home alone. He was worried, and without Jisung joining them, there wasn’t much they could get done that day anyway. But Chan had let slip the reason and Changbin had refused to leave. Something about how he was in this now too and wanted to be around if there was any news.

News didn’t come. He sent several messages to Minho over the next couple hours, all of them left unread until finally they displayed as unsent as more time went on.

The studio was silent, nothing but the hum of the centralized air conditioning, the tap of Changbin’s fingers on his phone screen, occasional distant footsteps of people walking through the hallway outside door shutting the two of them off from the world.

Chan had his phone volume on – a very rare occurrence. It meant he had to turn off notifications for all apps outside of KakaoTalk; the chiming every minute had gotten annoying right away.

When the next call came, sometime after 4, the ringtone shocked him out of focus. He hadn’t had the heart to actually work on anything he had initially planned to, and he couldn’t bring himself to even put on his headphones required for his usual work lest he miss any sounds from his cellphone, so he had simply been rearranging old files on his laptop, organizing the folders in a more streamlined system after he finished deleting spam emails. Pure procrastination.

The unknown number would normally be ignored, but Chan picked up on the second ring.

“This is Dr. Yoon, from the Sinyeong Psychiatric Medicine Center…”

He droned on.

“Is this Mr. Chan Bang?”

“Yes sir.”

“Chris?” Felix’s voice came through, obviously sitting a bit further away from the other speaker. Chan’s heart sped up.

“What’s up, Lix? Is everything okay?” He didn’t know Felix was with them.

“Jisungie’s okay, hyung.” The three words were enough to make him sink back into his leather chair. He hadn’t realized how tense all of his muscles had been until that moment.

“Yes, your friend is under good care at the moment. I’m calling with a request. I have made an agreement with Mr. Han on a plan of action. I would like to facilitate a meeting on Mr. Han’s behalf between myself and his legal representation through your company. Mr. Lee Minho informed me that this was something you could orchestrate as soon as possible. Is this correct?”

Legal representation? Was Jisung getting admitted? What was the reason?

“O-Of course, Doctor.”

Logistics followed. Chan went immediately to the eighth floor in search of Jungnam, their most senior group manager. Exchanging phone numbers, letting the team handle that for now. The meeting was set for 5 PM, but Chan couldn’t wait.

Jungnam quickly distributed links by email to an online meeting room with the little red exclamation point to signal urgency. There were so many people cc’d. Executives. HR. PR. Legal team. Even an external email that Chan didn’t have time to look into. Was all of this really necessary?

 He had called the number back through which the doctor had initially contacted him. Asked to speak to Felix again, or Minho, or- or whoever. Asked if he could come out. He would go crazy sitting here alone. Finally sent Changbin home with the promise that he would call as soon as he had news. Sat with sweaty palms in the car as Hyunseok, one of their managers who handled more day-to-day schedules, drove them both north of the city. Connected his phone’s Bluetooth some twenty minutes into the ride to log into the meeting room. Muted his microphone and listened with bated breath as the doctor relayed some haunting information. Minimized the meeting to open up a search tab at the name drop.

 

Before the call disconnected, Chan was only able to hear introductions and concerns. They hadn’t gotten to the ‘solutions’ stage yet.

What could the company do to prevent the possibility of the perpetrator speaking out and tarnishing Jisung’s image? What if he didn’t even know Jisung had gone on to make something of himself and any attempt at preemptive measures would only make things worse? If JYP reached out first with legal demands, would they surely be granted, or would it only serve to make him angry or spiteful? How could this be done without putting Jisung’s name on public record?

“What if… What can they really do?” Chan broke the silence in the vehicle after several minutes.

Hyunseok cleared his throat, not taking his eyes away from the road in front of them. “I would be willing to bet that they’ll agree on issuing a no-contact order. I have no doubt it would be approved, considering the… the, uh, the publicity of the original trial.”

Chan didn’t know. He had been on his own in Korea by that time, not really paying much attention to the news as young teen.

“Wouldn’t that- wouldn’t people be able to find that, though? Is that not public record?” Not in the sense that it was posted publicly, but if someone searched for it… they could conceivably find it. Right?

The manager hummed. “Maybe not if the company files on his behalf. Keeps it general. No contact with any member of staff on the payroll.” Chan didn’t answer. He hoped that was true. “I’m not sure, kid.”

The kid jab was clearly an attempt at lifting his spirits. He had a decently close relationship with Hyunseok and the poked fun at one another frequently.

It fell flat today.

Thankfully, they arrived at the building fairly soon after that, not leaving Chan too much time to stew in his negative thoughts. His eyes were instantly drawn to the grey Kia parked perfectly in the second row in front of the entrance. Hyunseok pulled in right next to it.

He fixed his ballcap and facemask before smoothing down his joggers that had ridden up a bit in the seat. Sliding his phone into his bag, he climbed out of the car and headed towards the glass doors ahead of his manager.

He was thankful at the empty lobby upon their entrance, heading straight up to the reception desk to see a shorter woman finishing up a phone call.

“Good afternoon, sirs. How may I help you today?”

“I’m here for Han Jisung? He was here earlier for an appointment.”

“Your name and ID, please.”

Ah, that made sense. Clearance.

He dug around in his tote for his wallet, producing his driver’s license just as Hyunseok was sliding his own over the countertop.

After some tapping on the keyboard and asking them to remove their facial coverings as she confirmed their identities, she had them stay where they were as she disappeared down a hallway across from the main doors.

The two stayed silent until the woman’s return, motioning to them with a waving gesture and a “follow me, please.”

As they walked, Hyunseok mentioned that he was supposed to be in a meeting with a Dr. Yoon Myungsoo but that they had lost connection during the drive.

“Ah, we just passed his office. I’ll bring you back that way after I-“ she cut herself off as she reached the end of the hallway, knocking twice on the last door on the right. “Mr. Bang is here,” she announced. Then, she stepped out of the way for Chan to come closer before leading Hyunseok back down the hall where they came from.

Not even a moment later, the door was opened from the inside, Felix appearing with red-rimmed eyes. “Hyung,” he said, pulling the oldest through the doorway. They weren’t able to get the door shut before the younger Australian had him in a big hug, hands pulling desperately. Chan returned it, glancing over Felix’s shoulder to see Minho and Jisung sitting on a couch. The two looked up at him, and then at the open door behind him.

The leader pulled one arm away from Felix to push the door until it closed on its own. The younger pulled away after another second, ushering him further inside, though the room was small enough that there wasn’t far to go.

“Hey, guys,” Chan said, voice weaker than he intended.

Jisung was sitting with his thighs spread a bit, elbows on his knees and hunched over his lap to face the ground, while Minho was practically a koala on his side, arm snaked between his arm and torso to wedge his hand in between both of Jisung’s own where they were clasped in front of him. It didn’t look comfortable in the slightest for the older dancer.

“Hey, Ji,” he continued, when everyone simply continued to stare at him with varying emotions.

Felix’s relieved, Minho’s distressed, and Jisung’s defeated.

The rapper dropped his head again, pulling his hands – and Minho’s by proxy – up to hold his head up, propping the front of his chin and lips against the tangle. “Is it okay? Did they- are they- can they fix it?” he rasped out before clearing his throat. It was tricky to understand his words with the thickness of his voice and the way he was speaking around his knuckles, but Chan managed just fine given the otherwise silent atmosphere.

“They will, Ji. They’re working on it. Hyunseok-ssi seemed positive about it.”

Sniffling uncomfortably, Chan shuffled forward and sat himself on the coffee table, facing the pair on the couch diagonally now. He removed his hat and mask, shaking his fluffy hair out. Felix remained standing, fidgeting the way he does when he’s nervous. Chan shot him a quick comforting glance before refocusing ahead of him.

Minho looked… like he’d aged 10 years in a day, truthfully. Maybe it was just the harshness of the single LED light above casting harsh shadows across his cheeks.

“It’s going to work out.”

I’m sorry, he wanted to say. Not out of guilt, but just… sympathy. He didn’t, however. It wouldn’t be productive just yet.

“Everyone knows,” the younger replied, voice stretching thinner now. “This is so humiliating, hyung-“

Minho shushed him, nuzzling his face into the other’s shoulder while Chan reached out to pat the outside of his knee.

“I can’t imagine what this is like for you, Ji,” the leader started, words strained. “But, they’re working hard to make sure this never gets out, okay? Only the people who need to know are aware.” Chan didn’t mention how many that actually was. He knew it wouldn’t spread far past that, though. He trusted their team not to gossip within the company. No one wanted this to spread, if not out of respect for Jisung, then because their jobs were dependent on it.

Jisung shuddered through a few breathing cycles. “Every time they look at me – think of me – they’re gonna think about it. Every time. Just- gonna see me as- as-“ he couldn’t finished the thought.

Chan couldn’t find the words to refute that. Sure, the other members wouldn’t, but for the employees who didn’t interact with Jisung on a daily basis, for whom the name Han Jisung was little more than just that – a name – perhaps they would have more difficulty separating the humanity of the person from the situation. He couldn’t imagine how that felt to guess but not really know how people thought of him with something this severe on the line.

“I know this isn’t… ideal.” He cringed at his own word choice, but he didn’t want to invalidate the younger’s concerns in his attempt to redirect his thoughts. “But I promise that it’s going to stay contained.”

“I just-“ Jisung almost interrupted him with how quickly he started speaking again, “-just thought… I never- I never thought about this part. I didn’t think- I didn’t think that far ahead. I just- I’m so sorry, hyungs, I didn’t want to ruin anything.” He lowered the tangle of hands back to suspend between his knees, dropping his chin to hang his head even further.

“This isn’t going to ruin anything,” Chan was quick to counter. “Not you, and not us. We’re on your side, me and the boys, okay?” He reached forward and wrapped Han’s and Minho’s hands in his own. It was hot and sweaty – quite gross, really – but he hardly noticed. “Nothing has to change, either.”

It looked like Jisung wanted to fight him on that last statement if Chan was reading the clench of his jaw correctly. However, he didn’t respond.

Eventually, Felix made his way over, perching on the arm of the sofa on the other side of Jisung and running his hand up and down his back in big circles.

“Are you guys hungry?” The leader asked after several minutes of quiet solidarity. “I can go find a vending machine,” he offered, feeling the need to care for them all. He removed his hands, playing off the way he rubbed the sweat off on his pants as if he were just preparing to stand.

“We ate,” Felix responded, using his chin to gesture to the three bar wrappers scattered along the coffee table behind Chan. “Hyung packed some food.”

Chan nodded. “Good, that’s good,” he thought aloud. He settled back down, resting his own elbows on his knees now.

Later, Minho escorted Jisung to the bathroom when he had to go. Chan didn’t ask why they disappeared into the room together, focused more on Felix’s sad, imploring eyes.

“How are you holding up, Lix?” he asked in English.

Felix only swallowed heavily, tears filling his eyes anew. “I don’t… Who is Han Kangmin?” he whispered.

Chan winced at the question. He hadn’t known either, and he wished he could have remained ignorant to the details. Felix wasn’t even in the country at the time; he wouldn’t have heard.

“I just read about him in the car. He…” Chan couldn’t find the most appropriate words; they all felt too gruesome to be spoken aloud.

“I know he hurt Jisungie,” Felix clarified at the leader’s silence. “But… he was in jail for 12 years…” he trailed off but phrased it as a question.

Chan understood the question to mean ‘who gets sentenced to 12 years for hurting someone?’

“There was… a sexual nature to the crime.” That didn’t quite feel like an accurate description of what happened. He was still searching for the right balance between understating the harshness while also painting a complete picture for Felix. “It was- apparently it was big news because people were… they were really upset he didn’t receive a harsher sentence.”

Felix looked devastated, shoulders sagging. He slid down from the arm of the sofa to sit properly on the cushions, feet tucked underneath him. “I thought that might…” He couldn’t finish. “Minho-hyung looked like-“ he shuddered. “I’ve never seen him… I’ve never seen anyone look like that.”

Sometime later, well after the two had returned from the bathroom, Dr. Yoon come back, whisking Jisung away alone for a few minutes to brief him on the decisions made. Chan wanted to come along, seeing as he had been initially given permission to attend the meeting. The doctor insisted on privacy, however, and Chan backed down immediately.

“I’ll drive everyone home when they’re back?” Chan proposed to the other two remaining.

Minho sank deeper into the couch. “If he’s ready.”

“Of course-“

“I’m not letting him go home if the doctor thinks he might still be a danger to himself,” Minho pressed on.

Chan paled. “A danger to himself?”

They locked eyes. “He wanted to die, hyung. That’s why we’re here.”

Mental health crisis.

He didn’t know.

He thought the worst thing imaginable had already happened today. Chan had no idea he was so close to losing one of his boys. He gulped, almost choking on his own saliva.

“I- yeah. Okay. If- if it’s safe, I’ll drive us all home.”

He tidied up the room while they waited, putting the empty water bottles, snack wrappers, and used tissues into his tote bag since he didn’t see a bin anywhere. He even righted the hats on the table out of a need to be doing something.

Upon Jisung’s return, he assured them all that it would be okay to leave, apologizing for the stress and the inconvenience. While Chan and Felix were quick to shut that down, Minho had only stepped forward, holding Jisung’s face between his hands and having some kind of unspoken conversation together. Jisung had just nodded, leaning forward to leave a kiss on Minho’s cheek. The dancer accepted this answer, whatever it was, and nodded at Chan with finality.

While they were getting their shoes and disguises back on, Chan let Hyunseok know that he would be taking the other boys home in their car, thanked him for his help, and finished with a quiet “text me?” referring to updates on the remainder of the meeting with the doctor. He gave Dr. Yoon a deep bow on his way out, guiding the other three ahead of himself as he took up the rear on their way back to the parking lot. He thanked the receptionists as they passed as well.

Minho wordlessly unlocked the car before handing the keys to Chan and climbing into the backseat after Jisung. Felix slid into the passenger’s seat while the leader got the car started, adjusting the mirrors and buckling his seatbelt. He turned the radio onto a low volume just to help hide the sound of Felix sniffling through quiet tears.

Chan was thankful for the distraction of operating a vehicle from his destructive thoughts. He simply didn’t want to process that Jisung could have ended things today. He was endlessly grateful for Minho, whose silent presence seemed to be providing Jisung an enormous amount of comfort in the backseat. Although, from a couple glances through the rearview mirror, Chan wouldn’t be surprised if Jisung dissociated the entire drive.

It took them over an hour to get home, the traffic having picked up heavily over the afternoon. The quiet car was uncomfortable, but not stifling.

Chan checked his messages in the elevator in their complex, skimming through Hyunseok’s lengthy text detailing their next steps.

It wasn’t until they were upstairs again, inside the foyer of Chan and Jisung’s dorm with the door closed behind them, Minho kneeling down to help Jisung out of his shoes, that something in Jisung seemed to click back into place.

A sob forced its way out of his throat with such force that he nearly lost his balance had Felix not been so close to his side. The younger dancer held onto him by his elbow and wrist, other arm wrapping around his back instantly.

Jisung dissolved into tears quickly after that, causing Minho to right himself just to wrap him up in his arms instead, cooing in sympathy.

“Oh, baby, you’re okay.”

Chan dumped his tote bag and Minho’s duffel onto the kitchen table, making his way back to the door to help when he heard even more footsteps. Turning around, he saw Changbin rushing from the hall into the entryway to see what the matter was. His eyes were wide and concerned, but Chan stepped towards him, gesturing to give them some space for a moment.

Minho had lowered the three of them slowly to the ground right there in the foyer, pulling Jisung to lean into his chest while Felix glued himself to their sides, looking devastated at Jisung’s loud cries but still opening his arms without a single thought. Jisung held Minho’s jacket sleeves so tight in his fists that the skin turned white.

Changbin hung back as requested, watching Chan hesitantly, who had gone to join the pile on the ground as soon as Jisung’s sobs sounded more like wails.

“He hasn’t cried all day,” Felix whispered over Jisung’s bent head. Chan was sure this was just a buildup of unreleased emotions, so he took deep breaths to steady his own heartbeat. That was manageable.

The tears didn’t slow for a long time. So long, in fact, that Chan was startled by the sound of the mechanical lock on their front door followed by it swinging open with a shaken Hyunjin immediately barging through. “What’s wrong? What happened?” he demanded, wide eyes observing the cluster of bodies on the floor in front of him.

Jisung’s whine hitched at the interruption, and Chan stood to pull Hyunjin around them, further into the apartment. While he led Hyunjin away, grabbing Changbin on the way, he noticed Minho starting to lift the other from the floor with a small heave of effort. “Come on, Hannie,” he groaned out, “let’s go to your room.”

The leader was herding the other two into his bedroom, the closest one, while Minho passed by with Felix hot on his heels down the hallway.

“Hyung?” Hyunjin pressed instantly upon the click of the door closing. “What’s wrong with Jisung?”

Changbin remained silent, but his face was pinched in worry.

Chan sighed heavily. “I… Everything is going to be fine.” He’d gotten in the habit of starting with reassurance, because he knew he would want that security before getting deeper into the issue if the roles were swapped.

He invited the others to sit down, but no one moved a muscle.

Hyunjin made no effort to even remove his jacket, hat, or shoes, obviously having just arrived home from either an outing or the company.

“You-“ Chan pushed on. “You’ll all get an email about it tomorrow.” He recalled the contents of the manager’s message. “But… Han had… a bit of a mental health crisis today.” He used Minho’s words. “We just got back from an- an appointment with a psychiatrist. But-“ God, how do people do this? “We’re going to have some things to look out for. Starting pretty soon. But just from me to you, I think it’s best if we avoid leaving him alone for now.”

“Hyung, please just tell us straight.” Trust Changbin to get to the point.

Chan sighed, pushing forward into the room to drop onto the edge of his bed. “I’m not making sense. I’m sorry.”

Hyunjin slinked over to the leader’s desk, sliding sideways into the rolling chair and swiveling it around to face the bed. Changbin remained standing near the door, arms crossed over his chest.

“Jisungie wasn’t- was feeling like he might want to- he was-“ Chan exhaled. “He received some pretty bad news and got some s-suicidal impulses.”

“What?” Hyunjin interjected, more out of surprise than lack of understanding. “What happened? What was the news? Is he okay? His family?”

“Ah- I should-“ Chan should really tell them now. Tomorrow’s email update to the members would be cryptic at best and it would be better if they had some background information so they don’t feel blindsided. “To- to put it simply, he was subject to some… abuse. As a kid. By his uncle. He was convicted and is getting released from prison next week.” He paused, refusing to look up at their reactions, but Hyunjin’s gasp was hard to ignore. Changbin remained worryingly quiet.

“Um, we’ve got it all worked out; we had a meeting today with JYP and the legal team and whatnot. They’re going to pursue a no-contact order for him to avoid this getting out to fans. But apparently they’re going to have us keep an eye out for things online and in person. Not like- just- like, if you see certain comments, where to forward them and stuff, or what kinds of questions to avoid. That’s it. It’s not like- first line of defense or anything. It’s just to… just to make sure we’re… being vigilant. You know? Just in case.”

He gulped, the silence stretching.

“I think Minho is going to stay tonight, but… could you two get Lixie home for me? And tell the others what I just told you? If they’re home.” It wasn’t the most ‘leader’ decision he could make, passing off the responsibility of clueing in the maknaes onto others, but he honestly wasn’t sure he had another one of these conversations in him today. He couldn’t bear the idea of leaving Jisung’s side right now – even two rooms away felt terrifying. He knew Minho was capable and trustworthy, but he was still struggling to wrap his mind around the close call.

“Yeah, of course, hyung,” Hyunjin replied shakily. Chan finally lifted his gaze and Changbin’s eyes were piercing, like he knew that the leader was hiding details. Chan was relieved when the rapper didn’t argue, the corners of his eyes softening along with a short nod towards the oldest.

 

 

8:00 PM – Felix

Changbin and Hyunjin had walked Felix back to the other apartment sometime ago. Even after Jisung’s tears had slowed, after Minho and Jisung had disappeared into the ensuite to take turns showering, after Chan had embraced him for two minutes straight, Felix’s own rivers of tears persisted. He had to wear sunglasses on the brief walk along with his mask and hood.

Changbin had his arm slung over his shoulders as they commuted in a display of casualness that doubled as physical comfort.

Upon arriving back at the apartment, Felix had broken down again seeing the takeout still sitting on the counter and table from lunch. Hyunjin fretted over him while Changbin disposed of the old food. It wasn’t his fault, really, he just didn’t cry often and every time he did felt like a whole event.

When Seungmin and Jeongin emerged from their rooms at the commotion, they helped the pair over to the living room sofa where they wrapped Felix into a blanket and asked the dreaded question.

“What happened?”

Changbin stalled for him, relaying something that Chan had told them to share with the others. How Jisung had a mental health crisis and how his uncle was finishing his sentence for abuse very soon. The words only made Felix sob harder.

Hyunjin cuddled him closer on the couch, asking what he needed. He knew they all wanted to know his version of the day’s events but were too worried to ask.

“He just- he just kept trying to get away,” Felix croaked. “I-If we didn’t notice even one time, just once, he could’ve just gone and- a-a-and killed himself.”

Hyunjin’s arms tightened around him.

Felix wasn’t sure how to express how hard it was looking back at the events of the afternoon knowing everything that he knew now. Now, it was clear the hesitance, the constant flinching, the panic, the flickering eyes, were all just the two sides of Jisung’s brain battling it out, between ending it all and his desire for comfort and guidance.

It was heartbreaking. Not to mention-

“It was Han Kangmin.”

Hyunjin’s breath hitched beside him, and he glanced up to see everyone else exchanging looks.

“Who is that?” Seungmin finally answered, Jeongin humming in agreement.

Felix gulped. “It’s just… M-Minho-hyung and the doctor, they- like, they already knew who his uncle was.”

Hyunjin’s shaky exhale drew Felix’s attention, but Hyunjin and Changbin seemed to be engaged in some pretty intense eye contact already.

“Hyung, is that-“ Hyunjin began, but Changbin was quick to shut him down.

“Let’s not- it’s not-“ he crossed his arms. “I’m going to… I just need a second.” His voice sounded worryingly unstable, and Felix’s eyes widened. Was Changbin about to cry?  “I’m going to the bathroom for a minute. I think it’s best- I think it would be wrong to- to search for-“ he cleared his throat. “Sorry. Please don’t… Please don’t search that name. For now. Let’s just stick with- with what hyung said. Yeah? You don’t-“

“Hyung,” Hyunjin called softly. “Go ahead, take a minute. We won’t do anything.”

The older swallowed heavily, and without another word, trudged down the hallway with heavy footsteps.

Felix turned back to Hyunjin, noticing Seungmin and Jeongin doing the same. “You know? Who he is?”

“I- kind of. I don’t remember all the details. But… yeah. It was kind of a big case way back when. I think hyung’s right- it wouldn’t feel right to read about it behind Jisung’s back.”

Felix just hummed, trusting their words. It was true, it would feel like crossing a boundary of some sort.

Without a word, Jeongin stood and walked away. Felix watched him go with concern until he headed right to the kitchen and the sound of the faucet met his ears. Shortly after, the younger returned carrying probably too many cups filled with chilled water. Seungmin helped him distribute them, and Felix downed his – and Hyunjin’s – in seconds. Crying always left him feeling horribly dehydrated, head aching.

“Let’s- let’s order some food?” Hyunjin proposed.

Swallowing hard, Felix groaned out a sigh as the tears seemed to have finally stopped. “Yeah. Okay.”

 

 

3:28 AM – Minho

The feeling of Jisung tracing patterns over his clothed torso gently with his fingertips tickled, but it was his biggest source of solace at the moment.

The younger was breathing deeply, steadily, his head pillowed on the older’s chest while their leader was deeply asleep on he other half of Jisung’s huge bed. They were in their own little bubble, even the sounds of the city below felt much more distant than usual.

Minho listened to the impulse urging him to slide his hand up to Jisung’s chin, tilting his chin upwards to meet his lips in a slow kiss.

Jisung, surprised at the action, pulled away just enough to whisper, “what about hyung?”

As if on cue, a soft snore broke through the quiet room. The two snorted soft laughs before their mouths drifted together once again. The older held the back of Jisung’s neck gently in his hand, fingers threading through the soft, freshly combed hair.

The need for closeness had Minho rolling onto his side, sliding his tongue along the rapper’s lower lip. Once again, Jisung jerked backwards.

“Are you sure, hyung?”

“He’s sleeping, Hannie. You don’t have to worry.”

With their faces hardly two inches apart, their voices weren’t even a whisper between them. Chan’s continued snores promised their privacy.

“No, I mean… You still… You still want this? Me?”

Minho’s head tilted, the sound of his hair against the pillow almost deafening in the silence.

“What do you mean, baby? Of course I- why wouldn’t I still want you?”

Jisung blinked at him in the near pitch darkness. “You… well you know about me…. now. Everyone does. Or… a lot of people,” he rambled, voice still as soft as ever with the slightest tremble.

“I’ve always known about you, baby.” His fingers gently played with the younger’s earlobe while Jisung’s own hand on his chest clasped his t-shirt in a loose fist. “I’ve always known exactly where the sparkles appear in your eyes when you’re truly happy. I’ve always known what you’ll order at any restaurant we go to. I’ve always known your kind spirit and ambition. The only thing they know is some third-hand information from decade-old articles about a version of you that has since evolved, overcome, and built himself into a wonderful man. Nobody knows about you like us. Like me.”

The silence stretched on.

A weak tug against his shirt was all the signal Minho needed to lean back in, tilting his head to slot his nose in next to the other’s and bringing their lips together again in a deeper kiss. Minho felt something deep inside of him settle as Jisung’s tongue slid assuredly against his own while their hot breaths warmed their whole faces. His palm caressed the skin of Jisung’s cheek, his jaw, his neck, the warmth of it a reminder of the blood pumping through his body, the life thrumming beneath his skin.

Minho was the first to pull back this time, leaving two, three, four extra kisses on the younger’s open mouth.

A deep exhale from the opposite side of the bed had them flinching minutely before the snoring continued. Jisung laughed soundlessly into Minho’s mouth, causing them both to smile before they separated.

“Thank you,” Minho whispered, every emotion he had poured into the two simple words.

“I should be thanking you, baby,” Jisung countered, nuzzling their noses together, stealing another kiss.

Minho’s fingers shook with the intensity of the unleashed sentiment. “I- I mean thank you for… for coming to me. Today.”

Jisung stilled, his hand releasing the wrinkled fabric of his shirt and flattening against Minho’s sternum.

“It’s not lost on me just how many times you had to make an impossible decision today,” the older continued. The words had no space to hang between them, so close that he could feel his lips bump against Jisung’s as they moved with each word. “I know… that it wasn’t just coming to find me and talking with Dr. Yoon. I know you chose life no less than a thousand times today no matter how hard it was every single moment. And I will always be thankful for your resilience.” He punctuated the declaration with one more kiss, barely there. “I am in awe of you.”

Minho felt the other’s unsteady exhale hot on his face. Moments later, wetness reached his thumb where it was resting low on Jisung’s cheekbone.

“Oh baby,” Minho huffed amusedly. “Are there really any tears left in there?” His thumb swiped it across his skin, streaking across his cheek before collecting in the short hairs in front of his ear. Scooting back another couple inches, Minho squinted to see the barest light reflecting in his waterline. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

It rivaled every time he’d ever heard those words from Jisung’s lips, and every time he would hear it yet to come. It made his stomach do flips every time, no matter the circumstances. It felt just as wonderful now as it did on a casual phone call, prompted entirely by a fabricated mission for filmed content.

Maybe they would talk about it one day. Maybe not. Minho wasn’t concerned in the slightest because he knew Jisung.

Chapter 2

Summary:

Nobody had all the answers. But eight brains are better than one.

Notes:

A series of vignettes from each of the member's POV taking place chronologically over the course of the next several months.
As with all my work, I wrote this as a stream of consciousness and haven't spell-checked or edited in any way yolo

He tried to breathe deeply through the dizziness – the nausea. Tilting his head back against the hard wall behind him, he closed his eyes and let out another shaky exhale.

Changbin had never been so angry in his life. It felt like energy thrumming underneath his skin that itched and ached and begged him to hit something. It was scary, almost. He’d never felt the need to become physical due to any emotion, and he didn’t want to feel like he needed violence to fix this.

He supposed that’s what it really came down to – not being able to fix this. The unrestrained rage directed at a specific person. A specific person who, admittedly, deserved a nice punch to the nose.

But he had to remove himself from the room before he let that rage out. He didn’t want to say something he would regret towards someone who had nothing to do with the situation. He didn’t want to give Felix another reason to cry.

So he paced. And sat. Breathed. Let a few hot, angry tears slip. Clenched his fists around nothing just to feel his short nails digging into his palms.

Memories that he hadn’t thought about in years flooded through, choppy and out of order. The longer he sat there in silence, festering in his anger, the more complete the images became. He lost whole minutes to his mind’s racing, blocking out everything but the tiny bubble around him – to the point where everything beyond his knees appeared blurry and grey – until a knock sounded on the bathroom door.

He physically startled at the sound as if it were gunfire, breath caught in his throat.

After several moments of silence aside from his trembling breaths and distant sounds of movement elsewhere in the apartment, someone spoke up outside the door.

“We’re ordering pizza, hyung.” It was Seungmin and his practiced calm, even tone. “Any preferences?”

Changbin swallowed hard, making his best effort at sounding normal. “I already had dinner.” It was true, and he wouldn’t be able to stomach anything right now even if it wasn’t.

The silence lingered.

“One minute,” the younger said before his footsteps retreated.

Changbin squeezed his eyes shut again, knowing that he didn’t have long before Seungmin would come back. He was always too sensitive to others’ emotions. He wouldn’t make anyone talk before they were ready, but he would always make his presence obvious. That just naturally resulted in his friends spilling their deepest thoughts to him, and Changbin was never sure if that was his intention.

Probably not; he wasn’t nosey.

Surely enough, moments later found Seungmin pushing his way into the unlocked bathroom. At least, Changbin assumed it was him. He refused to open his eyes at the moment.

He listened while the door shut gently behind the younger and his slippers shuffled over the tiles until he settled himself somewhere to Changbin’s right.

After one more exhale, the rapper opened his eyes and unclenched his fists. Glancing up to see Seungmin perched on the countertop by the sink, he wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. He kept his jaw screwed shut so he wouldn’t say something stupid.

“Are you feeling any better?”

Changbin gave a single nod before changing his mind and shaking his head. No point in lying. One look at him would be enough for anyone to know he wasn’t alright.

“Wanna hit something,” he gritted out through his teeth.

Seungmin looked at him calmly. “Want me to find something for you to hit?”

Changbin snorted. “No. That feels stupid.”

The younger said nothing in reply, just shrugged.

The presence of another person – one who shared a similar bond as he did – had him choking up again instantly. Exactly why he needed to step away. He had to think.

“That’s my brother,” he whimpered. “That’s my little brother.”

Seeing Seungmin’s collected façade fall had Changbin’s anger vanishing instantly, replaced by an all-consuming sadness. The younger slid down from the counter, sitting with his knees pulled up leaning back against the wooden cabinet perpendicular to Changbin.

When the sounds of the two of them sniffling became too stifling, Changbin spoke again.

“It was really big news.”

Seungmin stayed quiet.

“And kids are… kids. You know?”

Changbin concentrated his gaze on his knees again, refusing to look up at the younger. He would find out eventually anyway. Perhaps the more mature thing would be to wait until Jisung opened up to them all himself, but if he knew the 3Racha maknae at all, he knew that he never would. There was nothing Jisung hated more than vocally sharing his troubles, much less with everyone.

“When I used to attend cram school, there was a math tutor named Mr. Han.”

Jesus, how did Seungmin just make people spill without saying a word?

“I never had him, but there was this rumor that he used to lock people in the supply closet with the lights off when they got in trouble. Then it kind of became more like… people said he would, like, touch the girl students in there because there were no cameras in the closet. I don’t know if he ever did,” his voice wavered. “I don’t even know if the first bit was true. I hope it was just rumors. A bunch of students actually got suspended once because they created this chatroom talking about how he was a pedophile. They… They named a lot of names. And the screenshots were posted everywhere, and my- my friend at the time, Somin, was on there. Not- not in the group, but they said she was- y’know. I asked her, and she said it never happened.” He sniffled again, taking a shaky breath in. He hadn’t thought about this in years. “I hope she was telling the truth. I hope she trusted- I hope it was all just rumors. And they got in so much trouble for the chatroom.” That’s not important right now. “Anyway… this was kind of around the time that these news stories were coming out. Han Kangmin was on trial for, uh… sexual crimes against a minor.”

Except it wasn’t just any minor, was it?

“Kids started calling Mr. Han ‘Han Kangmin’ behind his back. He wasn’t! I- I looked him up in the directory. I don’t remember his name, but it wasn’t- that wasn’t him. But it was like- a joke…? I don’t know – I always thought it was awful. Because if he never – I mean, if Mr. Han never actually… you know… hurt anyone, it was terrible that everyone might destroy his career with false accusations. And if he had… even at the time, I just thought it would be a terrible way to address the problem. I mean, name dropping potential victims in a chatroom sounded… violating.”

Imagine your victimhood being exposed before you were ready to speak up.

“He was never fired – worked there up until I stopped going after I became a trainee. It got quieter too over the years, just whispers from a few boys. So, I – it was all rumors, I guess. And it made me so mad, too. Especially when everyone would call him that behind his back. Because I – I read about it. Watched it. Heard about it. In the news, and just… everywhere. It was… horrible. I never understood how anyone could make jokes about it – say his name with a smile on their face. He would – He was found… drugging a kid to sleep in his home. His fam-“ his voice broke, reality setting in even deeper now that he spoke it aloud. “For years,” Changbin choked out. Not just anyone. Jisung.

“No one should be called the same name as a monster like that without proof. It made me feel so sick to hear about it back then.”

The anger returned.

Seungmin’s foot nudged his and Changbin realized he’d been silent a bit too long, only his shaky breaths cutting through the small room while his eyes tunnel-visioned onto his hands in his lap.

“It made me so mad that anyone could joke about it. I know when you see things in the news, you’re so disconnected. Especially when it’s anonymized. But it was so… there were so many details. And while these boys at school were laughing and whispering about it, I couldn’t help but think about my sister, you know? How broken up I’d be if it happened to her. And now…”

He had even thought to himself, mere minutes ago, that the level of graphic detail those news articles went into was something he never should have been exposed to at that age. He’d never looked at certain things the same way again. He hadn’t really noticed the degree of impact that it had on him directly until now; it felt like it altered something in him, made him needlessly worried over scenarios that had nothing to do with him. Made him too aware of the evil that adults could be capable of. He was too young to have learned about what happened – shuddered every time he thought about it in passing. And he’d scolded himself mercilessly right before Seungmin came in, because if he thought he was too young to even read about it… well then…

He gulped. “I know this isn’t about me, but… I think I just need a minute. I- I just need a minute. And then I can stop centering myself. Just a minute.”

The echo of Seungmin clearing his throat startled the older.

“Your experience is about you. And it’s okay that this has affected you.” He paused, but Changbin didn’t bother to object. It felt nice to hear. “I didn’t know. But based on what you’ve just shared, I think…” He seemed to be choosing his words very carefully, speaking even more slowly and thoughtfully than usual. That, or he was trying to be comprehensible while Changbin was nearing delirium. “I think any decent person would have that same response. It’s not centering yourself; it’s having empathy. And I think you’re right, that we can sometimes be too desensitized to hearing about that kind of thing.”

Changbin tried to let his words sink in. Truly. He tipped his head forward to rest in his open palms, back hunched over. “That wasn’t my secret to share. I’m sorry.” He was stuck on the fact that he’d just outed at least part of Jisung’s experience to someone who hadn’t known. Changbin didn’t even really know, beyond hazy memories of news stories influenced by his brain in the passage of time.

Seungmin didn’t speak right away but Changbin refused to look up to see his expression. “I think you’ve just shared your own story – what it was like for you – and you’re allowed to do that. I still… don’t really know… much of anything, really.” Changbin couldn’t tell if it was worse to be plagued with the intimate minutia or to be left in the dark about something so monumental.

“And that’s fine,” Seungmin clarified. “Like you said, it’s not your story to tell. I’m not owed an explanation. But thank you for sharing what you did. That- that sounds like a lot to bear hyung, and I’m sorry.”

Changbin almost snorted. Sorry for me? I’m not even the victim here. Instead, he simply lifted his head and nodded, trying to take a few more calming breaths. “I just… I don’t know what to do with – like, where to put this anger. I’ve never wanted to wring someone’s neck before. I want to kill him, Seungmin, with my bare hands, and watch the life drain from his eyes. I can’t even picture his fucking face – there was never a mugshot or anything. So I just-“ his hands clenched around the fabric of his pants. “I don’t even know what to do- that’s my little brother.” His voice reached hysteria again.

Seungmin was on his knees in front of him before he could even blink, pulling him into a crushing hug. Letting his hands grip the younger’s shoulders instead, he let out the sob he’d been desperately holding in, feeling as though he had no right to cry. It hadn’t happened to him so what was he doing getting so upset? He couldn’t think of anything but the way Jisung had absolutely fallen apart all over the floor of their entryway. He’d never been more worried in his life – had never seen the younger express his sadness or despair so overtly.

It felt heartbreaking.

And this wasn’t that. It wasn’t the same. But he hoped Seungmin was right – that it was alright. It was better here on the bathroom floor in the opposite apartment than in front of Jisung. He wouldn’t appreciate witnessing this, that was certain. He might have felt helpless, the same way Changbin felt watching his friend break down. The same way Changbin felt now, filled with anger at a situation long past.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he gasped between tears. He was never one to ‘fix’ things for others, but it was certainly an instinct of his. He’d fought down the urge time and time again to solve others’ problems – mostly Jisung’s if he was being perfectly honest with himself. He knew Jisung came to him for a listening ear – to vent, to receive comfort – not for Changbin to try to take over. But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. The amount of times he wanted to just… tell Jisung what to do to remedy his situation when he’d just come to him to complain… But it never would have worked out – Jisung was far more sensitive than Changbin. His solutions would never work quite as well for the younger as they would for him, and he never wanted to become someone that Jisung didn’t trust with his worries by trying to fix things all the time and making everything worse. Now, though, his instincts were flaring with no outlet in sight.

“We could start with pizza,” Seungmin replied, sounding far calmer than Changbin ever truly gave him credit for.

He tried to push away from the embrace, and Seungmin let him without a fuss. “That’s not funny. I’m being serious, this isn’t time for jokes,” the older muttered harshly, wiping his cheek roughly with the top of his wrist. How could Seungmin even think about pizza after hearing all of that?

“I’m not joking, hyung. I just think we both know this isn’t something that can be fixed. I don’t think it needs to be fixed. It’s just… what it is. And it just happens to suck. Majorly.”

Changbin sniffled. “It does suck. Majorly.”

“It sucks more than Jisungie does at jumping rope,” Seungmin continued, still sounding improperly grave.

Changbin nodded sincerely. “Yeah.” He swallowed hard and tried to wipe the continuous flow of silent tears away. He would have chuckled at the dig if he had any positive energy left in him.

The younger sat back on his heels and put his hand on Changbin’s knee. “It’s fine if you’re still mad hyung, and you can take it out on me if you need to-”

“Don’t want to,” Changbin mumbled, interjecting Seungmin’s speech.

“-but when you’re ready, we should focus on what we can fix. We’ve gotta feed Felix, and Hyunjin hasn’t had dinner yet either. You can take some more time in here if you need, and when we’re finished, you can rip up the pizza boxes for recycling into as many pieces as you want. You don’t even have to tell anyone what you’re imagining while you do it. Kay?”

 

---

 

The leader had to admit that it was difficult to adapt to the new normal. Jisung had only taken a bit more than a week off to recover before coming back to work. His legal request was able to be processed and granted quickly with only one in-person appearance required for Jisung within that time. Chan had tried to insist he take more time off, that they could certainly spare it before they had to begin comeback preparations. Jisung said he was going crazy at home – wasn’t able to relax anyway – so Chan put him to work recording the guides for their upcoming album.

As the coming weeks turned to months, Jisung was more reserved and withdrawn, seeming uncomfortable interacting with pretty much everyone. Chan noticed the way he wouldn’t look into anyone’s eyes anymore, kept conversations short, and avoided leaving the apartment to go anywhere except the company building. He took choreography practice seriously, put on his usual Han persona during filming, and followed all orders well.

Everyone was doing the best they could to go with the flow – to follow Jisung’s lead. He spent a few nights a week over at the opposite apartment, watching the kids game on the living room television while curled up on the sofa with Minho, according to Felix’s account (though he used a lot more adjectives to describe the cuddling and accompanied it all with a smirk and eyebrow wiggle – not Chan’s business, honestly). He knew that Seungmin, Jeongin, and Felix were doing it for Jisung’s sake because they were all both responsible and exhausted enough to normally not spend precious sleeping time with video games during these busy periods. When he was home, Hyunjin had taken to being more physically affectionate than usual, though not so much that it felt out of place.

Changbin took a few days to stop walking on eggshells and looking at Jisung like he might break if he said something wrong, but he did quickly adjust to being less concerned – or rather, appearing less concerned. Chan knew the depth of Changbin’s worry; they’d talked about it at length on their second day back at the studio following the incident. The two were experiencing somewhat similar emotions and it was comforting to have someone to talk to without involving Jisung and dragging things out.

Chan couldn’t help but draw the comparisons between Jisung’s current behavior and that of his trainee days, back when they first met one another. Jisung had been torn between false bravado and crippling anxiety that infected his relationships with everyone around him. He regretted not being able to help more back then – he had tried to be the best role model he could be to the younger while also making sure he was firm enough to ensure Jisung made the changes he needed to in order to debut, but they were all so busy and so new to one another that he didn’t think he always succeeded. This time, they understood one another much more and somehow Chan was even more lost than before.

Staff tried to step in once or twice, to determine whether a hiatus would be necessary. Jisung promised every time that he wanted to keep working. He’d appeased them by admitting that he started seeing Dr. Kim weekly again, as much as Jisung probably wished to keep that detail private. He’d always been tight-lipped about his mental health treatment, a boundary everyone respected without comment. Chan was only privy because he used to see someone in the same cabinet – had recommended the practice to Jisung years ago and helped him schedule his first appointment with Dr. Kim when he was too nervous to do it alone.

His worry increased when they began filming promotional content for various radio programs and variety shows. Jisung struggled to maintain his composure in the green room prior to filming, and Chan suspected him of dissociating a few times even when the cameras were rolling. The leader hadn’t mentioned anything at that point because he was still doing his job well and he seemed to be letting Minho in to some extent. Jisung usually didn’t appreciate overt concern and intervention in any capacity.

Unfortunately, he did have to intervene eventually. After the MV drop, they were holding concerts in Seoul. Jisung had a particularly nasty panic attack between the sound check and the start of the previous night’s show, and it affected his performance the whole run. He’d made preventable mistakes that he’d normally be able to laugh off but only served to frustrate him further.

Chan didn’t want to talk to him about it right away to give him time to wind down, so he said nothing when he went home with Minho to the other dorm for the night. He’d hoped to find some privacy around lunchtime to talk with Jisung before they had to be at the venue for their next performance just in case one of their managers had something to say about it as well. He wanted to touch base with the younger before confronting that possibility.

However, Jisung didn’t come home in the morning. Instead, Minho stopped by around 10:30 to pick up some new clothes, some perfume, and a charging block from Jisung’s room.

Looks like he has no intention of coming home yet.

“Hey, Min,” Chan called from Jisung’s doorway. Minho was busy stuffing everything into a tote, but he froze and looked up expectantly at the leader’s interruption. “E-Everything alright over there?”

Minho’s expression softened and sat on the edge of Jisung’s bed, probably sensing this would become a whole conversation. “We’re working on it.”

That wasn’t the answer Chan was hoping for.

He blinked slow for a few seconds. “And he knows he can sit out the show tonight if he wants. Right? If he thinks it’ll help.”

He’d deal with the company side himself if that’s something Jisung felt was necessary. It would be as easy as a public statement that he was under the weather and resting.

“He wants to do it,” Minho shrugged, giving no indication whether he approved of that decision – not that it would have mattered.

Chan nodded, accepting the dancer’s words on Jisung’s behalf. “I want to sit down with him when things settle down again. Next week, maybe. Before the next schedule – I think it’s not until Thursday.”

He only noticed Minho clench his jaw because he was observing him so closely.

“He might ask you about something,” Minho spoke carefully, hinting at something he clearly knew more about. “I don’t know if he’ll bring it up himself though. If he doesn’t… ask him about therapy, yeah?”

Chan furrowed his eyebrows. It was obvious that Minho knew a lot more than he was saying, which was both comforting and frustrating. Comforting to know that at least Jisung was talking to someone about this, but frustrating in that he wanted to know more right away.

“Sure. I’ll… I’ll ask. Any… tips?” He wasn’t totally sure what Minho was getting at. Would a simple ‘how’s therapy been?’ suffice?

Minho pursed his lips in thought. “Dr. Kim has been trying to get him to start some type of dedicated trauma therapy. Something she doesn’t do herself. He’s – he’s not sure which kind would work best for him, or how to find someone he clicks with. Said it was too much research, too much planning, too much effort.” He cleared his throat, shouldering the tote bag and standing up from the bed. “He’s worried he’ll have to go on a hiatus. Apparently, it can last a long time and get… pretty intense.”

Chan lingered just inside the doorway to Jisung’s room while Minho waited for him to respond. That sounded… like a lot. But he’d be more than happy to work out some solutions if that was what Jisung needed to do to feel better.

“But he wants to?” Chan asked. If Jisung didn’t want any of this, he wasn’t sure he’d even bring it up on his own to the leader. If he did, then he could certainly work with that.

“I don’t think so,” Minho replied softly, eyes cast to the ground. “But he knows he needs it – if not now, then sometime. I think he just needs reassurance. This… this talk therapy thing isn’t really doing it for him right now. He’s not…” The dancer sighed, dragging his gaze back up to Chan’s face. “He knows he’s not doing well. And this choice, it’s too… it’s too much for him to conceptualize right now and he’s spiraling over it.”

Chan nodded slowly as he listened to Minho’s words. It made complete sense given the leader’s simultaneously limited and thorough understanding of Jisung’s psyche. He was known to avoid making decisions that would either result in any kind of interference with others’ lives or seemed like too much work on the front end regardless of how it would help him in the long run. This situation seemed like both.

“If-“ Minho continued before cutting himself off. “There’s no pressure, hyung. If you talk and he still decides not to do it, no harm done. I just think it might help coming from you.” He stood up and paused to readjust the tote strap on his shoulder, just for the sake of fidgeting. “I don’t mean to, like, downplay it. It-it’s still going to be really hard. I just think he’s making it seem a lot harder in his head, and I just th-“

“I understand, Min. I know what you’re saying.” Chan finally interrupted when it seemed like Minho was going to keep going around in circles. “Of course I’ll bring it up if he doesn’t first. Thank you for telling me.”

Minho swallowed and nodded, holding eye contact but not giving any indication that he was going to respond.

Chan smiled softly, stepping out of the way. “Don’t keep him waiting,” he prompted before remembering one other detail. “We have that- that chocolate brownie ice cream thing in the freezer right now if you two want to come back here tonight after the show.” He couldn’t remember what Jisung’s current favorite dessert obsession was called, but he knew Minho would know what he was talking about.

Minho smirked the moment Chan extended the invitation to both of them as opposed to just Jisung – Chans’ actual flatmate – and it had the leader instantly intrigued. He really didn’t want to pry into this relationship, but… it was hard to not want to know what was going on with his own friends, if not just to have an excuse to love them harder. The smirk, however, was gone almost immediately after it appeared.

“Sure, hyung. I’ll be heading- see you at the venue.”

Chan watched him go and then listened as his footsteps carried him all the way out of the dorm before he bothered to move himself. Heading to the kitchen to make another cup of tea, he pondered Minho’s earlier words.

Chan wasn’t familiar at all with trauma therapy and what made it any different from regular therapy. From what he gleaned from Minho’s words, there seemed to be different types even within that distinction. He’d be happy to bring it up as he promised, but he’d have to do some heavy reading beforehand so he could make sure he was providing good, informed advice.

 

---

 

Minho wasn’t sure if he should be surprised to see Jisung’s name popping up on his caller ID that evening. It wasn’t too late; he’d just finished eating a late dinner and was planning on watching some TV – alone – before going to sleep early so he could wake up easily in the morning to head to the other apartment to see Jisung off.

He answered the call before his thoughts continued too far.

“Hey, Jisungie,” he replied, voice soft and a bit cautious. They had a bit of an argument earlier that day and Jisung had insisted on needing a bit of space for the night, the two of them agreeing to return to their respective dorms. Minho felt guilty for being a bit too prideful – he was trying to be understanding and supportive given the stress that the younger was under, but tensions were high for everybody for multiple reasons, and he lost his cool a bit. Jisung had been snapping at others more easily these days, Minho included. It was hard to always take the high road.

“Hyung… could I come over?”

Minho’s heart clenched. “Of course you can, baby.” He wasn’t angry at all about earlier, just guilty and a bit strung out. “Should I come to you? It’s supposed to rain…” He didn’t say that he could tell Jisung wasn’t feeling the best and he was worried about him being out in public alone in less than perfect shape.

“No, I’ll walk fast, promise.” He paused, nothing but his breaths audible for a moment. “Are you sure it’s okay, hyungie?”

“I’m sure, Hannie, you know you’re welcome anytime.” He tried to find a balance between casual and sincere; he wanted Jisung to feel the truth in the statement but not be scared off by the emotion in it. He knew he didn’t have to worry, though – the fact that Jisung was willing to reach out first after a disagreement was a massive sign of progress.

Jisung just hummed and mumbled a “thanks,” before the line cut off, which did worry Minho.

The younger was leaving tomorrow in the late morning. His dad was coming to pick him up to stay at home for a few months while he started something called prolonged exposure therapy. He’d only gotten worse after their last album promotions ended while they prepared for year-end stages, and he ended up having to pull out of two separate scheduled appearances somewhat last minute. Management wasn’t too pleased. At that point, Chan had approached Minho in the empty dance studio looking haggard and despondent.

 

“I know Ji probably told you that we talked about it before, but I think we need to revisit the conversation.” Chan started, no time for pleasantries.

Minho furrowed his eyebrows, switching off the music that played softly over the speakers still. “Talked about what?” Minho asked for clarification. There was a lot going on lately, and he couldn’t be sure what exactly the leader was referring to.

Chan shook his head a bit, something he did occasionally when he tried to refocus his thoughts. Minho always thought he looked like he was etch-a-sketching his brain. “About the therapy thing. Look,” the leader pulled out his phone and walked further into the room; Minho followed until they stood close. “I made this document for top specialists in the Seoul area for these two types of treatment that Dr. Kim recommended.” He gestured to the table he had typed up in his notes app.

It had doctors’ names, office locations, phone numbers, hours of operation, and the therapists’ unique specialties. Very in-depth. “This side’s for the EMDR thing, and the other is for prolonged exposure. I’m ready to start making calls and scheduling interviews so we can find the right fit, but he wasn’t ready to pull the trigger the last time I brought it up. I’ve done all I can to make this easier and I’ve let him know what I can continue to do, but he’s still hung up. He kept saying it was because it would take too long to find a good doctor, but I don’t think that’s it.”

Chan was a bit out of breath – clearly he had planned exactly what he wanted to talk about and was doing his best to get it all out comprehensively. Minho let him.

“I think it’s the timeline. Apparently, it’s a process that takes months – sometimes even a year – of these weekly sessions of… a really invasive type of therapy.” Minho knew exactly what he meant; back when Dr. Kim first mentioned it, Jisung described to him in detail, close to tears, the way he would be expected to relive every moment both tangentially related to and fundamentally upholding his trauma. “I still think it’s the best choice – we can’t keep going on like this – but I know he’s completely against taking a break from the group. If… If you could try to talk to him again, maybe…”

The leader’s voice became less and less steady as he continued, and Minho felt his own shoulders sag without even meaning to.

“Of course I’ll try, hyung. I know this is a lot.” He was so tired. “I want him to make the best choice for himself too. I want him to put himself first more than anything.” The younger didn’t know how much it hurt those around him when he neglected himself like this. If trauma therapy wasn’t the right choice for him, then so be it, but there had to be something better than just pushing on like this. “Maybe send that to me and I can try to get to the bottom of this.”

The last thing he wanted to do was push Jisung before he was ready. He’d done a lot of research on his own in the past few weeks since the leader initially confronted Jisung about it and the younger had come back to him in frustrated tears. While he loved being Jisung’s trusted confidant in all of this, it was a lonely cross to bear. He had to try, though.

 

It took even longer to convince Jisung to bite the bullet and accept the leader’s offer to help him find the right match, and then another few weeks to conduct the interviews before finalizing a schedule and a plan. All the while, he was still giving his best effort to help prepare the next album with 3Racha.

He was set to begin prolonged exposure therapy with a doctor who Jisung described as boring, but his second choice was apparently ‘kinda like one of those cringy ‘cool dads’ you know?’ and he preferred the lack of a persona that Dr. Yang exhibited – he wanted someone who wasn’t ‘trying too hard to be relatable,’ in his words.

Jisung was going to stay at home for the next three months because both Dr. Kim and Dr. Yang advised him to try taking a complete break from the public eye as this kind of therapy was known to make one feel even more vulnerable and exposed for an extended period of time. The more Minho thought about it, the more he shuddered at the thought of what Jisung was bravely embarking on. He wasn’t sure he would have ever been able to work up the courage to do something like that.

After those three months, while schedules were light anyway (except for Changbin and Chan, who would still be working hard on the production side), he was expected to make the decision on whether he’d like to call it quits or continue treatment and announce an official hiatus ahead of their next album preparation. Dr. Yang projected a five-month intensive plan should he choose to stick with it, but it could possibly take more or less time depending on how things went once they started.

Minho was startled out of his depressed musings at the sound of their door shutting harshly and the mechanical lock clicking back into place. He must have zoned out for a while if that was who he thought it was.

He opened up his laptop to make it look like he wasn’t just sitting around, waiting, lost in his thoughts. Before he knew it, Jisung was knocking softly and pushing his way through the ajar door just as Minho was pulling up Netflix.

“Hey Jisung-ah,” he called out softly, scooting back against the headboard and abandoning the laptop in the center of the bed. “You look cute.” It was usually best to start casually, and he did look cute. He wore sweatpants that absolutely swallowed his legs and a puffer jacket that looked two sizes too big with the hood still pulled up over his beanie-covered head. His cheeks and the tip of his nose were tinged pink from the cold. Highlighter blue fuzzy socks covered his feet.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” he blurted out, wringing his hands before gently shutting the door behind himself. “I didn’t mean to be so touchy… I know you want the best for me. It’s all my fault, I- I’m sorry.”

Minho felt his heart splinter just a bit. “I’m not mad, baby,” he cooed truthfully. He never really was.

It was a silly argument to begin with – all around dinner plans. The older had been worried endlessly over the weight that Jisung was dropping lately (weight he really couldn’t spare to begin with). He still ate but it was infrequent and never anything nutritious. For the longest time, Minho was happy to let him eat whatever he wanted whenever he wanted just to encourage him to get enough calories, and he was a grown adult who could control his diet however he wished. This week, though, Jisung had been extra skittish, low on energy, and particularly snappy – probably everything to do with the reason for his impending time off. He was dead set on skipping dinner, but Minho wanted to cook or order a kimchi stew on his last night at the dorms to make sure he had something filling and healthy in his stomach. It just got a bit heated, is all. Minho hoped Jisung was on the same page as him that there wasn’t any truth behind the digs they made before taking a step back.

“I’m sorry, too. Come here,” he beckoned, scooting closer to the edge of the bed with his arms open. “Let’s get you all warmed up.” He would take irritated Jisung over the distant Jisung that the other members were getting these days as long as it meant he was still being trusted with the younger’s true self. “Do you want hyung to get you set up in a hot bath? Shower? Blanket burrito?” He avoided asking what he really wanted, which was ‘did you eat yet?’ because that would have opened that can of worms right back up.

Jisung had been slowly shuffling towards him, expression relaxing. “Blanket,” he mumbled. As soon as he was close enough, Minho tossed his legs over the edge of the bed and unzipped Jisung’s jacket, helping it off his shoulders.

They both let it drop to the ground in a wet heap and Minho pulled the now-sweatshirt-clad younger man onto the bed before reaching for the fluffy blanket down by the foot. No one said anything while Jisung wrapped himself up tightly and Minho turned on the next episode of an anime they watched together 2 years prior but that Minho had started rewatching solo fairly recently.

Sat up against the headboard again, shoulder to blanket-wrapped shoulder, they stayed in silence for several minutes, neither truly paying attention to the show but rather focusing on their own thoughts. Minho was worried about what brought on Jisung’s sudden apology and he could tell Jisung wasn’t really watching the screen anyway with the way he didn’t react to anything going on.

Just as he was debating asking if everything was okay in a moment of desperation (something he usually wouldn’t do), Jisung sniffled and tipped his head over to rest on Minho’s shoulder, slouching down to accommodate it.

“I don’t wanna go home anymore, hyung.”

Minho furrowed his eyebrows, worried about what brought this on. It was probably just nerves, but that didn’t make it any less important. He rested his cheek on the top of Jisung’s head before responding, “Why’s that?”

Jisung just sighed, wiggling closer. “I don’t want to.”

His voice sounded devastatingly watery.

Minho was disappointed. Not in Jisung – not directly at, least – but he tried not to let it show in his voice. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. But I thought we… we talked about why you wanted to do this. What changed your mind?”

Jisung sniffled again. “No, I – I still want to do it. I just don’t want to go home.”

Minho absentmindedly pressed a little kiss to the top of Jisung’s head. He wasn’t sure if Jisung would even feel it through the thick knitted beanie he was still wearing. “Did someone say something?” He knew how important Jisung’s immediate surroundings were to his recovery process – the reason he agreed to step away and stay with his family to begin with. If a family member had mentioned something that brought any kind of discomfort, this would all make a lot of sense.

He could feel and hear Jisung’s gulp. “No,” he choked out, sounding like tears weren’t far behind. Minho didn’t quite believe his answer, given the hints he was picking up.

“Come here,” Minho invited him closer by wrapping his arm around the younger, who slumped closer into his side like he was eager for the body heat. He pressed his temple into Minho’s collarbone and wrapped one of his arms – and consequently the blanket – around the older’s front. His hand was cold even through Minho’s t-shirt where it pressed right up against his ribcage.

“What’s going on, baby?” he pushed.

“I want to stay here. I’ll still go – I’ll still do the sessions. I just… I don’t want to go home.”

“Well… I think-“ Minho cut himself off to think before answering. This decision was made originally so that Jisung could have a quieter, calmer atmosphere to recover around people who were close to him, who he didn’t have to feel self-conscious around. His behavior around the other members lately indicated that perhaps he wouldn’t be able to fully relax into the recovery process around the dorms, where he would still feel the need to put up a front and act fine. It would be busy around here too, despite the reduced schedules. Not quite the relaxed environment that Dr. Yang recommended. Seeing Changbin and Chan going into work daily would likely make him more anxious about being left behind, but they talked about how important it was that he take some time away to focus properly. “Are you sure nothing happened?” Why did he change his mind?

“Can I stay?” Jisung pleaded instead of answering, and Minho’s chest felt tight.

“If that’s what you feel you need, then you know you’re welcome, baby. At least for the next few months, yeah?” Maybe things would need to change if it came down to the hiatus idea, but for now, if this was what Jisung needed to feel supported through this process, then he knew everyone would accommodate it easily.

“I’ll still – I’ll still go to my appointments. I promise, hyung.”

Minho nodded, believing the words.

“I just… I was talking with Dr. Kim today and I just don’t think I’ll be comfortable staying with my parents anymore.”

“And they didn’t say anything, right?” If Jisung’s family made him feel bad in any way, Minho wasn’t sure he’d be able to remain neutral anymore. He respectfully avoided pressing for information about how the whole situation with his uncle affected their family dynamics in the past, but it couldn’t have been easy for anyone. Perhaps he wouldn’t be more comfortable at home. Despite being the one Jisung had opened up to the most about this, he still didn’t have the full picture.

“I mean – I love them, yeah?” Jisung defended. Minho squeezed him a bit closer in response. “But… I was talking to Dr. Kim, and I don’t – I don’t think I’m… I think I’ve been angry with them forever and I only just started realizing it today. I just want to keep working it out, and I don’t think I can stay with them when I feel so resentful right now. I don’t think I could hide it either, and… I don’t want to make them sad again.”

Minho let that little ‘again’ slide for now – an issue for another day – and let his admission sink in.

 

---

 

Hyunjin paced up and down the hallway, refilling his glass of water in the kitchen, heading back to his bedroom, going to the bathroom but forgetting what he was doing in there and accidentally spending 4 minutes staring at his reflection in the mirror… He even almost popped a zit. He managed to stop himself before going that far.

He had read up on trauma therapy earlier. It sounded absolutely horrendous, if he was being completely honest with himself. Hyunjin weirdly hoped that the initial trauma predisposed people to being able to handle that kind of intense, repeated recollection of the worst moments of their lives that it required, because otherwise…

He felt goosebumps appear on his skin.

The other residents of the apartment were at the company and Hyunjin’s job was to stay home with Jisung right now. Well, not with with him, unless he wanted it. It had become somewhat of an unspoken rule that Jisung wasn’t to be left home alone. He could be alone, but not completely. Every time he thought about how distressed Felix was after the inciting incident, Hyunjin was reminded to take his role seriously. Occasional check-ins were his job more often than not when Jisung was home instead of at the other dorm because Hyunjin was home more often than the producers. That meant he got brushed off quite often when an impatient Jisung just wanted some space.

This felt a lot like previous times – not quite, but similar enough.

About a year and a half ago, Jisung became a bit withdrawn; Hyunjin struggled with feeling like he was unreachable. He could tell something was wrong, but didn’t know how to approach it or address it. He assumed that he was working through it with Chan, or Seungmin, or probably Minho (Felix ended up blabbing to him a few weeks ago about seeing the two of them kiss a few times and Hyunjin had to take two whole days to process that), so he didn’t feel like it was his place to step in. He desperately wanted to be in Jisung’s inner circle like that, but he had no idea what to say – when to say it. He always hesitated because what if he was having a rare good day and Hyunjin just brought everything back up and ruined it?

They had a couple conversations about it after the fact. Jisung seemed touched by his worry but not bothered that he didn’t try to reach out sooner. And yet, history was repeating itself.

Not only that, but recent developments also painfully reminded Hyunjin of when they didn’t get along – ages ago. Hyunjin never knew how to interact with someone who was warm and welcoming one second and then defensive and rude the next. It felt like he was constantly stressed about saying the wrong thing and setting him off.

Now it was some weird mix of both. Even the comfortable, trusting relationship they had built together over the years wasn’t much help.

Not to mention that Hyunjin was feeling a bit… off himself.

He kept his distance now because he felt guilty over how left out he felt. He thought they were much closer than even a few years ago – had built a great deal of trust and understanding between themselves. It hurt that Hyunjin was still pushed to the periphery when Jisung clearly needed support.

And it hurt more that he felt that way. He was ashamed at the way his brain was making himself the central role of this whole matter. His friend’s trauma had nothing to do with him, really. He wasn’t entitled to his inner thoughts that he may or may not be sharing with others (not him). He was too embarrassed to bring it up to anyone else, so he didn’t even know what the others knew. Didn’t know who was granted access to Jisung’s personal thought processes.

He didn’t know why he had to find out about this whole thing from Chan’s cryptic announcement that night in their flat, when he returned home from a day out with his buddies to see Jisung shaking apart in tears in their front hall. He didn’t know why he had to hear about the real reason from Felix, that very same night. He didn’t know why he had to hear from an email from upper management what they were supposed to do about it. He didn’t know why he had to hear about this taking a break for intensive trauma therapy from the managers. He didn’t know why he had to hear from Minho not too long ago – in a group text, no less – that the plan was changing and that Jisung would be staying with the group during the whole thing instead of going back to his family’s like the schedule outlined. Even the original circumstance he'd learned from whispers at school bolstered by the news radio playing in the car on the way to his grandmother's house.

Why couldn’t he hear from the source just once about what was going on? Why did Jisung seem to be relying on everyone but him?

Hyunjin beat himself up constantly for even thinking that way. They had constructed a wonderful friendship by now, and because of that, Hyunjin knew that Jisung didn’t enjoy vocalizing his negative thoughts. Maybe he’d write a slew of heart wrenching songs one day about the whole thing in some complex metaphor, but right now, Hyunjin just didn’t know. Anything.

He’d been debating all morning on going to check on Jisung – he knew he was awake because Hyunjin heard him shuffling around in the kitchen before shutting himself back into his bedroom some time ago. It was the day after one of his appointments with… one of his therapists. Hyunjin heard him mention more than one, and he wasn’t sure who did what or who he saw the day before, but neither one was a great option. Both left him drained, quiet, and a bit snappy. Hyunjin didn’t blame him at all, but he still wanted to avoid making things worse by intervening when he’d rather be left alone.

However, Hyunjin was shaken up by this whole needing supervision thing. He’d been shocked to his core when the leader told them about Jisung’s suicidal thoughts all those months ago. Hyunjin didn’t know if it was a one-time thing – just the stress of everything coming back all at once – or if it was something that persisted. It made him jittery, almost willing to risk upsetting Jisung’s privacy whenever it was just the two of them home alone just to make sure he wasn’t… plotting anything. Doing anything. He’d never really known anyone who actively felt suicidal – or at least, not that he knew about. Chan had opened up to them once about his past thoughts, back when he thought they were all too drunk to remember it later. Hyunjin wasn’t. Those kinds of things stuck with you.

A couple months ago, back when he heard about how the other dorm was staying up late having game nights and movie nights sometimes when Jisung stayed over, Hyunjin placed an online order for some intricate coloring books and a new set of nice felt-tip markers. He intended to use it as an activity they could do together, an excuse to hang out, but months later they remained untouched in the original delivery packaging that sat at the edge of his desk. He never worked up the courage to ask.

Today, he felt determined. He’d finally come to terms with his guilt about being left out of the loop and decided that he needed to make more of an effort to initiate bridging the gap. He’d keep trying even if Jisung shut him out. He was allowed to feel jealous and guilty while also reaching out at the same time. Jisung didn’t have to know he was feeling this way. Jisung’s problems, his feelings, his temper, and Hyunjin’s problems, his feelings, and his temper – they were all allowed to exist at the same time.

Before he could second-guess himself, he knocked on Jisung’s door.

“’m fine,” was the only reply he got.

Hyunjin took a deep breath. “Can I open the door?”

There was a beat where nothing happened, and Hyunjin almost convinced himself that Jisung was going to come open the door himself, like some perfect scenario.

Instead… “I’m not trying to kill myself, okay?” Jisung sounded exasperated, his voice muffled by more than just the door between them.

Hyunjin gulped. He supposed that was one of the biggest differences between then and now. When Jisung used to give him attitude, it lit a fire in Hyunjin, made him want to match that attitude and throw it back in his face. Now, it just made his heart ache. Maybe it was having a full, complete understanding of Jisung’s personality and what caused him to act the way he was acting right now. There was no desire to be anything but kind and accommodating after all that he had been through and was still going through.

Hyunjin and Changbin compared their stories way back when this first blew up and it devastated him every time it crossed his mind, made him feel sick and a bit dizzy to imagine. It even made him wonder if Jisung’s trauma was any explanation for how he acted even back when they were trainees, if it had any impact on the choices he made back then that caused the rift between the two of them to deepen. Hyunjin never let himself dwell too long on that thought, not wanting to overthink their interactions that they’d long put behind them.

“That’s not what I asked,” Hyunjin replied, not even filtering the words before they came out. Well, I guess there’s still a little sass left…

After an even longer pause, Jisung’s voice came through again – more quietly but more clearly than before. “Fine.”

Nodding to himself, Hyunjin gently turned the knob and pushed the door open slowly. He peered his head in before taking a cautious step forward. Jisung was sitting up in his bed, but his disheveled hair indicated that he hadn’t been sitting so neatly just moments earlier. His laptop was open, but the screen was tilted down so it was half-closed, and Hyunjin had to bite his tongue from the way it looked like Jisung wanted to hide what he was doing on there. Jisung knew he wasn’t supposed to be on social media and that he was supposed to be avoiding certain key search terms on Naver and YouTube to protect himself, so he really didn’t need Hyunjin suspecting or even accusing him of anything. Stay focused.

He dragged his gaze back up to Jisung’s face where he was staring back at him expectantly, waiting for Hyunjin to speak. That’s right, he reminded himself. You’re here for a reason.

“Uh…” Off to a strong start. “I was…” Ah, the coloring books. “I wanted to know if you’d maybe want to come color with me.”

He watched as Jisung’s expression became confused, and maybe a little disgusted? No, stop reading into things. “Color?” he asked.

Hyunjin nodded eagerly, his hand fidgeting with the doorknob he still hadn’t let go of. “Yeah, I got these cool coloring books I saw in a Reel. They’ve got all kinds of fancy designs.” Jisung’s expression didn’t change. “Um… Also, I was just gonna, like, order some Italian food for lunch. Maybe open a bottle of wine. And I finally started watching Extraordinary Attorney Woo, so I thought we could, like, gossip a bit. While coloring.” Jisung had recommended the series to him ages ago and he never bothered to watch it until last week.

The rapper’s face slowly morphed from confusion to… maybe something inquisitive. “That show’s old news now, Hyunnie. And I’m not supposed to drink right now.” His voice was so soft Hyunjin almost had to strain his ears to hear it despite being in the same room.

The words themselves sounded like a rejection, but something in his tone emboldened Hyunjin. “Yeah, well a release date doesn’t mean shit – I have opinions that need sharing.” His own voice dropped a bit quieter. “And the wine was just an idea. This new restaurant I was looking at online stocks those Italian lemon soda thingies. And they deliver.”

The corner of Jisung’s lips lifted the slightest bit, but Hyunjin caught it clear as day and tried his best to keep his own eyes from showing his utter relief.

“Okay. That sounds cool.”

 

---

 

I should really invest in an electric mixer…

Felix had that thought every single time he baked and never once actually followed through. As easy as it would be to order one online and have it arrive later the same week, he always forgot by the time he was done with doing the dishes.

It didn’t help that they were getting really close to their busy period again, about to start filming for their new MV, so he probably wouldn’t be baking too much these days anyway. Not to mention the diets… He shouldn’t even be baking right now, to be honest, but he had to do a trial of this new chocolate chip cookie-brownie hybrid recipe before he made it to bring in to staff for their first day of filming.

Jeongin was home though, and he’d definitely eat some of this batch because he wasn’t on a particularly strict diet at the moment. Chan and Minho, too. They usually just gave their best effort to eat more protein to sustain the muscle growth during pre-comebacks.

Jisung could, too. He was actually on a diet to try to encourage him to eat more. The company’s dietitian ended up convincing him to spring for a meal delivery service so there would always be pre-made food available. Felix only knew because they had to stock some of his meals in their own fridge and freezer because he spent so much time over here that they learned pretty early on that the meal service wasn’t working without options being available and both apartments and at the company. He had a section carved out in the staff fridge in the management offices upstairs now too.

Felix would definitely package his little creation up and bring it to the company tomorrow for them at their practice. Jisung would probably come even if he didn’t choose to participate, and if he didn’t, Felix could just send some home with one of the others. Today was Tuesday, which meant he had one of his appointments. Practice wasn’t always something he could do the day or two following his appointments. Felix knew that he was putting in extra hours with Minho and his vocal coach outside of the regular schedules and during breaktimes on his better days – plus he was managing to keep up just fine on the days where he did fully participate in practices – so Felix wasn’t too worried. At least not about his performance.

His arm ached a bit while he struggled to mix in the last bit of the dry ingredients for the cookie part of the dessert, the brownie batter already filling up the tin waiting for the rest. Maybe this time he really would buy that hand mixer… If this recipe turned out well and he had to remake it in an even larger quantity, he definitely wouldn't want to do it all by hand again.

Felix hummed along to the soft RnB playing further in the apartment coming from Jeongin’s room and added the chocolate chips to the dough all at once. That was when he heard the electronic click of their front door unlocking, and he looked up curiously to see one of their managers, Hyunseok, shouldering the door open.

Felix smiled in greeting and waved the hand that he had been using to hold the mixing bowl down, wondering if he was here to pick someone up for a schedule. Well, at least until he stepped inside to hold the door while Jisung stumbled through. Felix’s smile dropped only a bit – Jisung was probably coming straight from his appointment, and he didn’t know why he’d come here.

Typically, he only came over here when Minho was home or when the other dorm was empty so there could still be people around to make sure he was alright following his draining therapy sessions. But management did their best to keep Tuesdays light for everyone at the moment, so he didn’t think the other dorm was empty right now. Of course they would still have some individual schedules that couldn’t be avoided, like Seungmin’s longstanding vocal class and Minho’s magazine shoot today. Felix wasn’t too sure what the others had going on, but there was no way everyone else was busy.

Jisung looked the way he usually did after his appointments, wrapped up in his biggest clothes with a facemask covering as much of the pale skin on his face as it could and glasses perched on his nose to distract from his puffy eyes. Usually, Felix would only catch a glimpse before he disappeared into Minho’s room and wouldn’t emerge until dinnertime.

Hyunseok caught Felix’s eyes, and he offered a sympathetic smile but looked relieved at his presence, gesturing to Jisung – probably an unspoken request to make sure he was taken care of – before he stepped out, resetting the door lock.

Felix let go of the death grip he had on the silicone spatula, letting the chocolate chips sit mostly on top of the almost-finished dough as he stepped around the kitchen island.

“Hey, Ji,” he greeted, trying to emit calm. Jisung didn’t even spare him a glance, sliding off his shoes without even bending down, and then slipping off his coat and the little shoulder bag he took everywhere to hang them on the rack by the door. As Felix approached, he could see a gentle tremble in the other’s hands where they gripped the fabric of the coat. “All good, mate?” he asked in English.

Jisung finally spared him a quick glance, his head tilting up just high enough to look at Felix for a split second before he turned to go further into the apartment.

“Uh, Minho-hyung isn’t home, is that-“ Felix started.

“What?” Jisung’s slumped shoulders raised suddenly and he turned back to finally take a good look at Felix’s face, searching for… something. Felix wasn’t sure what.

He looked shocked, and Felix froze, the end of his sentence immediately forgotten. “N-No, he had that modeling gig booked for…um – he didn’t tell you?”

Jisung gulped and his eyes filled with tears, causing Felix to panic almost instantly. “He… I forgot. He did… I forgot.” The rapper quickly averted his eyes again, turning his back to Felix in something that looked like shame, with his shoulders hunching in to make his body look smaller. Felix could have sworn he saw the bones of his vertebrae through the thin material of his oversized t-shirt, but it was probably just from the way he was bending… right?

He stepped forward on impulse, cautiously putting a hand on the other’s arm. “That’s… well, that’s okay, it’s alright.” Felix’s whole soul ached to make Jisung stop looking so sad and helpless. “He’ll be back in the afternoon, yeah?” Felix wracked his brain to try to recall what time the shoot would finish but he just wasn’t sure. He slid his hand more assuredly around Jisung’s bicep when Felix’s touch didn’t make him flinch away at all. “W-Would you want to help me finish cooking? It’s almost done.” Jisung’s whole head seemed to turn between the front door and the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

“We can hang out after… Play a game, put on a movie, take a nap…” Felix was almost frantic; he didn’t realize how much he was still so affected by that one day all those months ago, but this felt somewhat similar, and it was enough to throw his nervous system into a frenzy. This isn’t like that, he tried to remind himself. He’s safe now.

Jisung exhaled a shuddery, uneven breath. “I- I don’t…” He couldn’t even finish the thought, frozen in place.

Felix moved even closer, shifting over to Jisung’s side so he could get a look at his face. However, the mask was still on and his twin only lowered his head even further to the side so Felix’s wouldn’t witness his tears. The dancer’s heart felt like it was being squeezed in his chest. Not only did he hate seeing his friends like this, but he was filled with even more worry and stress as he recalled the last time Jisung had shown up in their apartment, shaky and uncertain, looking for Minho who wasn’t there…

This isn’t like that.

Felix made a wounded sound when he saw Jisung’s chest spasm in what must have been either a suppressed sob or… maybe just a cough… Either way, he needed to hug. He pulled Jisung so they could fully face each other but tugged him into his body before he had a chance to try to hide again. “It’s okay, buddy…” Jisung didn’t hug him back – rather, he’d wrapped his arms around his own stomach – but he didn’t protest against Felix’s arms circling his body. He kept his head turned away still, but he tilted it down and allowed his cheekbone to press into the top of Felix’s shoulder, sniffling desperately now.

“Take your time,” Felix mumbled, feeling so much calmer already now that he was able to comfort physically. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed there while Jisung tried to get his tears under control, but Felix stayed. He kept moving his hands, too – up and down the rapper’s back, massaging lightly, holding him close with one arm thrown over his shoulder and hand pressed hard on the opposite side while his other hand trailed up and down Jisung’s arm, scratching into his hair, massaging his scalp…

He kept wanting to say more, to offer more condolences or comforting words, but he wasn’t sure what to say – he never knew what to say. He knew Jisung didn’t feel too well after his sessions, but he wasn’t granted the knowledge of what those sessions actually consisted of. He wasn’t sure what exactly was making him upset right now so he didn’t know what to say to make him feel better.

Eventually, Felix’s heart settled even more as Jisung was able to take several deep breaths in a row. “’m so sorry,” he’d whispered then. “I’m just so tired. I just forgot.” He unwound one of his arms, Felix’s own loosening to make space where he reached up to pull his mask off, crumpling it in his fist.

Felix’s face turned even sadder. “No need to say sorry,” he whispered back, not wanting to break the atmosphere that Jisung had created for them. The rapper wiggled a bit, just enough to get his other arm free to grip Felix’s shirt near his hip. He felt the way Jisung leaned some of his weight onto Felix, trusting him to hold him up. “Do you want to go lay down?” he offered.

Jisung was nodding before he’d even finished the question, pulling away enough for them to be able to move down the hall.

“Mine or hyung’s? Or Innie’s? … Or Seungmin’s…?”

Was that too many options?

“I don’t know,” Jisung mumbled under his breath, the syllables all coming out at once and hardly understandable. I suppose that yes, that was too many options.

Felix bit his lip as they passed by the kitchen, seeing the oven still on – preheating. He thought about turning it off quickly, but didn’t think Jisung would be able to hold himself up fully if he were to let go for even a second.

It’s fine, there’s nothing in there, it won’t burn the place down.

Felix led Jisung to his own bedroom since it was the closest, glad that the other wasn’t the type to judge his messy bed. The two pulled back the duvet together and Jisung climbed in right away. Jisung went to remove his glasses himself, throwing them with the crumpled mask onto the pillow beside him. Felix picked them up and deposited them both onto the bedside table while Jisung flopped onto the pillow and curled his hands up under his chin.

He was rolled so his back was to Felix, as if he were still trying to hide his face. The dancer only sighed, pulling the duvet back up over the other as it didn’t seem like he’d do it himself. “Do you want me to stay or leave?”

“Don’t care,” was all he said, once again coming out barely comprehensible even without the mask covering his mouth. Felix considered both options, deciding that as much as he’d like to stay and cuddle, he wasn’t sure that was what Jisung would prefer.

“I’ll go get you some water, one sec,” Felix thought out loud. He pulled the window curtains closed to block the sunlight on his way out before hurrying to the kitchen. After grabbing a water bottle and an electrolyte drink from their fridge, he eyed the oven again and headed back to his room quickly. “Here, Sungie.” He leaned over to put the drinks on the bed on the opposite side, where he was facing. “I’ll… I’ll just turn the lights out and you can nap for as long as you want, ‘kay?”

Jisung only hummed, nuzzling further into the blanket.

He was torn. He knew Jisung didn’t like being seen like this, but Felix craved more than anything to climb in the bed for another hug. He settled for perching on the edge gently, spending just few minutes running his fingers through Jisung’s hair.

Eventually Felix clenched his jaw and nodded, deciding to step out; Jisung wasn’t curling into the physical comfort the way he normally would. He turned the lights off, as he said he would, and closed the door behind him. Standing in the hallway, he took a moment to collect himself.

Right. The brownies… Let’s just finish that quickly…

Felix shuffled back to the kitchen and robotically finished mixing in the chocolate chips, dropping spoonfuls of the cookie dough onto the brownie batter, and putting the tray in the oven.

Again, he found himself stood still and unmoving, unsure what to do with himself next.

Maybe I should go talk to Jeongin? Someone else should probably know what’s going on.

Felix spent the rest of the morning and into the afternoon in a bit of a haze. He ended up going to Jeongin’s room to tell him everything that just happened in hushed whispers. The maknae seemed composed despite his worry and had enough sense to shoot Minho a text that he would see when he was finished with his shoot. Then, Felix sat on the sofa playing an old Genshin game on his Switch before the smell of burnt sugar drew him back to the oven.

Seungmin had arrived home from the company just in time to see Felix standing sadly in the middle of the kitchen holding his overcooked dessert in his mitt-covered hands with the oven still open behind him. He was thankful for the singer’s initiative disposing of the remains (and then helping him finally place an order for an electric hand mixer) before Felix rolled up his sweatshirt sleeves and got to work on a new batch – unfortunately still by hand for now – making a mental note to set a timer this time around. He usually did, but he was feeling a bit scatter-brained today.

Felix checked on Jisung twice in all that time. He was asleep the first time, and the second he was… probably not. Felix asked him if he wanted to talk or cuddle, but the other didn’t respond. The dancer just promised to bring him a portion of the cookie-brownies when the new batch was finished before leaving him to his privacy.

Minho had gotten home while he was still measuring ingredients, and Felix pointed him towards his own bedroom right away. After checking in, Minho hopped right in the shower while Jisung shuffled across the hallway into the older’s bedroom instead. Felix only got a brief glance – all he saw was ruffled, messy hair and a puffy face.

Felix was only just getting started on the next batch of cookie dough when Minho emerged from the bathroom, hair still wet, and began microwaving some food from the fridge. They didn’t really talk beyond what happened while Minho had been away at his photoshoot before he was disappearing with arms full of food into his own bedroom again.

The whole day felt like these massive flurries of stressful activity interspersed with long, boring stretches of nothing but stalling and wasting time until the next thing happened. Despite it being a rather lazy day for Felix, he felt quite worn out by the time his second – perfectly-cooked – batch of fancy brownies had cooled and it was time to package them up. The tray was quite large, so he put a couple in a smaller container and left it on the counter for anyone who wanted it – he cut off his own small bite from one of those to test the quality – then placed the two prettiest pieces on one of the small plates from the cupboard to deliver to Minho’s room. The rest went in a larger container to bring along to practice tomorrow.

Washing his hands one last time, he sent a message to the dorm group chat about the free dessert in the kitchen and then brought the plate down the hallway to Minho’s room. He stopped outside the door, straining his ears to make sure he wasn’t interrupting anything. When all he heard was the recognizable sound of the Attack on Titan voice actors, he knocked gently on the door.

No answer.

The volume on their show was turned up fairly high, so they probably just didn’t hear him. He knocked again while he gently opened the door, peeking his head around to see.

At the immediate sight of the bare skin of Minho’s back, he almost apologized and excused himself right away for interrupting, but nobody moved at the intrusion and Felix realized right away that they were both just sleeping.

Sighing lightly, he noticed the older dancer in his usual nighttime apparel – nothing but a pair of tiny underwear – curled up on his side on the bed facing away from the door with his head pillowed on Jisung’s chest. The other was starfishing in the middle of the bed, left arm extended out under Minho’s head and bare legs strewn across the bed, left foot almost touching the laptop playing their anime at a loud volume. Felix had no idea how they managed to sleep with all that noise; the show wasn’t exactly known for being calm. His expression softened even more when he noticed Minho’s arm hiking up Jisung’s giant t-shirt to hold onto his hip bone right above the waistband of his silly Pokémon boxers.

He huffed a small laugh, coming into the room further. He placed the plate gently onto the bedside table, trying not to make a noise. Then, he moved down to the foot of the bed, carefully turning the volume down lower and fixing the laptop’s charger where it was about to slip out. Jisung’s sharp inhale startled Felix, who turned to see the rapper’s eyes squinted open towards him.

“Wh’s tha-?” he slurred, still not really enunciating his words.

Felix almost laughed at how he was trying to appear fully awake and yet fooling no one. He just shushed him, gesturing to the bedside table. “Sorry Sung, just dropped off your brownies,” he whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

Jisung groaned, eyes seeming to slip closed again involuntarily, and then made even more sleepy grumbles as he rolled onto his side, throwing a leg over Minho’s hip and hugging his head closer the way a cat stretches in its sleep. He seemed to fall back asleep instantly, not even waking the older in the process.

Felix couldn’t help but shake his head fondly as he covered them up with the throw blanket from underneath the laptop on his way out.

 

---

 

If he was being totally honest, Jeongin thought Jisung was absolutely insane for choosing to work through a comeback while also undergoing his psychological treatment. The maknae was grateful to the company for doing everything they could to accommodate Jisung’s scheduled appointments and support his other needs that arose as time went on, but he still couldn’t fathom making a choice like that.

Jeongin understood Jisung’s workaholic tendencies better than most since they had been quite close since pre-debut and had shared a bedroom for years. He still wouldn’t have expected this.

He’d asked Chan and even Changbin a few times if there wasn’t a way to talk him out of it (he wouldn’t do it himself because he thought that would be crossing a boundary for some reason). The older members just sighed, told him Jisung had been firm in his decision, and that they and the management team were doing all they could to make things easier. Jeongin did notice that while Jisung came to the company with them pretty much every day, he didn’t always come specifically to work.

Although his voice was heavily present in the guide tracks, he only helped out in the official recording process for one song. The rest of the time, he was laid out on the sofa in the studio, sleeping or glued to his phone with headphones on. He’d come to the gym sometimes with Jeongin and Hyunjin, but he would only spot them. He’d sometimes just mark the moves at dance practice while the others still had to go full-out.

Then, when recording stages for music shows, he’d slip seamlessly into his Han persona, but it only ever lasted as long as the music was playing. As soon as the cameras cut after the ending fairies, he was quiet again, hiding behind the nearest member and waving shyly to the live audiences from there.

And no public appearances on Tuesdays – it was strictly enforced.

It hurt Jeongin’s heart to see.

He had good days too, though.

“Hyung, what’s the left hand doing right here during the pre-chorus?” Felix asked the dance leader, going through the motions for the section he was referring to in slow motion.

From his spot in the formation directly behind Felix, Jisung mimed the same actions– when you looked straight-on in the mirror, you could hardly notice him back there. Jeongin smirked when the rapper started wiggling his arms out, trying to make it look like Felix had an extra set of arms. He moved them like octopus tentacles, causing Hyunjin to crack up and finally distract Minho, who had his eyes fixed to the ceiling while he recalled the part Felix was asking about.

That was when Felix noticed as well, his focus drifting from his own figure in the mirror to the wiggly arms behind him, and he started to do a wave with his body to match the energy which had Hyunjin’s laughs raise in pitch. Minho only rolled his eyes fondly with a sigh of ‘a group of children,’ before he finished instructing Felix.

Two run-throughs later, everyone went to grab a drink of water. As Jeongin passed Jisung, the maknae let his arm squeeze briefly around the other’s waist before snaking away as he kept moving. It was a quick way of checking in that Jeongin learned right away – months ago – worked well for Jisung.

A brief shoulder squeeze, half hug, or arm link by the maknae would be met by one of three reactions:

No reaction was the norm. It meant that Jisung wasn’t feeling too great but that there was no cause for concern. No further action was needed. He understood the maknae’s gesture and was happy to keep going as it was.

If he leaned into the touch just a bit or even returned the physical gesture with his usual blank look, intervention was needed. Sometimes it just required Jeongin pulling him into a real hug for a couple seconds before they moved on, but sometimes it meant that he needed to step away immediately but didn’t want to draw attention to himself by just leaving on his own. Depending on the setting, Jeongin could usually just get away with asking him to go grab some water together to give Jisung a chance to regulate himself away from everyone’s eyes.

The last reaction was obviously the best.

Jisung spun around to watch Jeongin as he passed with a wide grin and sparkly eyes. He let the maknae’s arm slip away as they kept walking in opposite directions to get their own water bottles, but he managed to make direct eye contact and Jeongin didn’t see anything worrying in his eyes. He returned the bright smile immediately, feeling calm and content himself as he turned away to locate his drink.

Initially, Jeongin thought that it would be hard to look at Jisung without overwhelming sympathy infecting his expressions. After that night where Felix came home sobbing, telling them about the rapper’s predicament, Jeongin struggled with his need to understand. The name drop meant nothing to the maknae – he had never heard of Han Kangmin before. Still, he trusted Changbin when he said it wouldn’t be wise to do their own personal research. Jeongin didn’t look up the name as much as he wanted to understand. Jisung was effectively MIA for the whole week following that day, and Minho had practically moved into the other dorm for that short time, so Jeongin couldn’t ask him about it either.

The maknae had sent messages of support to his friend, let him know his metaphorical door was always open, and then continued business as usual for them – which consisted of sending the occasional silly video. All of the messages were left unread for a few days until they were marked read but left unanswered. It took another week at least until he at least started thumbs-up reacting the funny videos.

Unfortunately, Jeongin’s social media addiction resulted in him coming across a TikTok video about Han Kangmin’s release from prison. He froze, breath caught in his throat as the creator talked about the original case. He listened for what must have been 30 whole seconds before his brain kicked into gear and he frantically paused, swiped away, and then swiped back – pausing immediately – to scroll through the comments.

The video was probably almost 3 minutes long in total and Jeongin had only heard the beginning, but… what he heard made it feel like his heart was beating out of his throat. He wasn’t sure what he missed in the remaining minutes, but it didn’t seem like anyone in the comments was interested in seriously speculating who the victim was. Jeongin couldn’t get the image of Jisung out of his brain, of Jisung back when they first met, of a Jisung even younger than that.

It was probably silly and maybe a bit rude, but Jeongin had never really seen Jisung as an older brother – an older person at all, really. Jisung never made him feel stupid or inexperienced for being younger and having less training than him, never tried to give him advice as if he knew better, and it naturally evened out the playing field for Jeongin to sort of categorize him in his mind as a same-aged friend. Sometimes he even felt like the older one between the two of them.

Thinking back on young Jisung intensified that feeling. It made him feel deeply protective.

Jeongin looked up the name Han Kangmin after that video.

He didn’t click on a single link, though, as much as he ached to know more. He didn't read anything more than headlines and the attention-grabbing snippets that accompanied them. He felt sick enough as it was and he didn’t think he’d be able to read another word with the image of innocent, teenaged Jisung in his brain. He closed out of the tab a few seconds after he opened it and never gave into his curiosity again.

Jeongin thought the words of that content creator speaking candidly about the past case would linger in his mind every time he looked in Jisung’s direction. It did, for a while, and the maknae worried that it always would.

Over time though, he let his mind focus on the Jisung in front of him – the adult Jisung, who didn’t need or want his pity, who was content to receive the understated comfort that Jeongin settled into providing – instead of the shy, insecure kid he was remembering.

Moments like these, where Jisung acted silly again despite going through what Jeongin understood to be mind-altering, utterly exhausting, and incredibly taxing all while also keeping up with a comeback (at his own pace) made the maknae feel okay again. The atmosphere in the whole room was lighter, too.

On Jisung’s bad days, the group still joked around; they were still noisy and goofy both on and off camera, but Jeongin could tell that he wasn’t the only one who felt just a bit on-edge those days. Everyone liked it when Jisung joked back or participated even with just a fond smile instead of his usual blank stare.

It even helped Jeongin feel more secure in his role. While he still wished to have a full understanding of Jisung’s experience, complete with his thoughts and feelings then and now, that wasn’t what he was here for. He had professionals for that, and maybe even some of the older members. Maybe his family, too. Jeongin didn’t know exactly who knew what and who was supporting how.

But he thought, with the sound of Jisung singing along off-pitch to their track playing over the practice room speakers, that Jeongin was fine where he was. He was doing something right at least.

 

---

 

The heavy thud of the front door closing woke Seungmin up from his fitful nap. It was his own fault – for choosing the sofa as his mid-morning nap location instead of his own bedroom – but he’d been watching one of the promotional appearances he and a couple other members made on a show that aired last night on the bigger shared television and couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore.

“Hey pretty boy, all good?” Minho had greeted the new arrival, followed by the nasty sound of a wet kiss. Seungmin would have grimaced if he had the energy. “Mm don’t worry, he’s sleeping off his fever,” the older continued, and Seungmin realized he hadn’t even opened his own eyes yet. He decided to keep them shut, not blow his cover. He told himself it was out of laziness and not because he didn’t want to make the other – obviously Jisung, though he hadn’t even spoken yet – uncomfortable at him witnessing something he thought was private.

Plus, he was still incredibly tired. And he was trying to sleep off a fever.

That was precisely why Seungmin thought Jisung shouldn’t be here… His immune system functioned normally, but the singer didn’t want to get him sick because of Jisung’s odd personal abstention from taking cold medicine. He’d rather suffer through a whole day’s rehearsal and performance with nothing but painkillers before he’d even think about touching the box of cough syrup that both apartments were always stocked up on.

Seungmin sighed softly, more as a way to get a good breath in through his mouth since his nose was stuffed up. He made sure to be quiet enough to not attract any attention. Even though promotions were starting to wind down, he still really didn’t want to get Jisung sick. He had enough to deal with.

But he should have seen this coming; today was a Tuesday and Jisung and Minho were almost always together after his appointments. Seungmin skipped his vocal lesson in order to rest and recover, and Minho had offered to make him a fresh batch of porridge for lunch (Seungmin had a million quips on the tip of his tongue but he decided not to push his luck for once in his life – because homemade porridge sounded absolutely phenomenal after this stressful comeback). Therefore logically, that would mean that Jisung would also come over. Where Minho was, Jisung followed. And vice versa, of course. It was nauseating. Sweet as it was…

Seungmin surmised from the sounds of shuffling fabrics that Jisung was removing his outerwear before two sets of footsteps thumped towards the kitchen.

“Okay, baby?” the dancer was speaking in hushed tones that Seungmin wouldn’t have been able to hear if the dorm wasn’t otherwise silent – or if he’d actually been asleep, like they seemed to believe he still was.

“Do you want to go wash up now?” Pause. “Alright. If you go lay down, I’ll be in in like… 30? I’m making a big pot of porridge. You can have some too.”

Jisung mumbled something that was too soft-spoken and incomprehensible for Seungmin to really pick up on. He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, after all.

“Hmmm yeah, do you want to just sit and watch me? Here, hop up.”

Seungmin assumed they were fully in the kitchen by now, so he figured it was safe enough to squint an eye open. The floorplan was partially open, and he had a decent vantage point of one the walls of counters in the kitchen. Jisung had sat himself on the marble countertop, smiling softly but tiredly down at Minho, who was dressed in his oldest, rattiest lounge clothes that Seungmin always made fun of him for still wearing. “Who cares about stains, I’m not getting rid of these ‘til there are holes exposing my ass,” he’d argued back once. Seungmin wasn’t too convinced he’d even throw them away should they ever reach that point either. He’d bet actual money that the older would simply call them lucky for being allowed to witness such a view.

He only realized he’d zoned out with his eyes slightly open when he noticed Minho standing in front of Jisung and pulling him into another kiss with a hand on his jaw. Seungmin’s eyes snapped shut again and he squeezed them just to make sure they’d stay that way.

Even his mind was trying to be exasperated – on the kitchen counter?? – but it wasn’t sticking in his brain the way the dominant thoughts were…

He was so glad.

It eased his worries enormously to see his friends being so supportive of one another.

He missed the next bits of soft conversation; the action of cutting off his vision brought him back into his body more… which felt disgusting. The body aches were annoying the hell out of him, there was a ringing in his ears, and he couldn’t breathe through his nose. Perhaps the awkward position he was laying in wasn’t helping at all, but he was hesitant to shift around now and draw their attention to him.

On the one hand, he did secretly appreciate getting to witness something so gentle and caring that he likely wouldn’t be granted access to otherwise. On the other hand, he felt like a dirty voyeur…

It wasn’t hard for him at all to leave Jisung his privacy regarding the whole 'traumatic childhood' thing. He never once felt the urge to read about the supposed events no matter how many little bombs the others occasionally dropped on him.

This felt hard. It felt hard not to indulge in the visual proof that his friend was safe and cared for. Of course he knew it; he would have stepped in much earlier if he didn’t think Jisung had access to the kind of support he needed. It was just nice to see. It was also nice to see Minho having settled into a sort of calm, confidently caring role after he’d been so stressed and worried for so long.

And he’d make anyone who tried to get him to admit that out loud choke on their own tongue.

He managed to tune them out for a long while, focusing on his own deep breaths and grateful that he at least didn’t seem to be wheezing anymore. He must be on the mend. Eventually, more shifting and thumping had him squinting his eyes back open.

Jisung had moved down to sit on the floor right under where he’d been on the countertop. Minho was giggling at the action, petting his head as the rapper latched onto the dancer’s leg. He had to reach across the countertop to pull the cutting board closer to him without moving his feet so he wouldn’t jostle the younger man, and Seungmin was disgustingly endeared.

That was, until he noticed Jisung’s own sniffling. The singer felt his heartstrings tug at the blurry sight of Jisung crying on their kitchen floor, but Minho hardly acknowledged it beyond reaching down to feed him a piece of roast chicken that he had been chopping, scratching under his chin, and calling him a “good boy” as if he was one of his cats. However, Jisung didn’t seem to get any more upset at the lack of attention, seemingly content just sitting with his head against Minho’s thigh and silent tears coming nonstop.

Seungmin’s heart rate leveled back out, and he decided he needed to remove the temptation to keep spying. He bit the bullet and shifted around so he was facing the back of the sofa now, groaning authentically with the movement in hopes that it would sound like he was either just waking up or rolling in his sleep.

He couldn’t see anymore, but he could practically feel the way Minho turned around and burned a hole into Seungmin’s back with his intense gaze.

After a beat, the dancer was speaking again. “Why don’t you go wash up now, baby?” Busted. “I left some fuzzy socks and a sheet mask on my bed. I’ll be there with your lunch right when it’s time to take it off again, yeah?”

There wasn’t a verbal answer, but Seungmin heard footsteps leading away.

He didn’t feel too guilty, surprisingly enough. Even if Minho did somehow know how long he’d been awake – which he didn’t – it wasn’t like he saw anything compromising. Sure, the two had never verbalized their whole potential relationship to him, but he still had eyes.

He might have even slipped back into an extremely light sleep, because the next thing he recalled was a hand shaking his shoulder.

“If you’re not at the table in five minutes, I’m eating the entire pot myself and making you watch.”

Notes:

There will be one more part uploaded tomorrow :) please look forward to Jisung's POV

Chapter 3

Summary:

It took Jisung some time to settle back into himself.

Notes:

Here is Jisung's POV, starting within and extending past the previous chapter's timeline.
As always, just pretend the errors are intentional~

Also just an extra CW because this is from Jisung's POV and the warning tags are a bit more prevalent in this chapter compared to the last.

“I just don’t want you to have any doubts,” Minho said softly. “I know you’ve got a lot of stress on your mind, and I just don’t want us to be something on that list.”

Jisung smiled tenderly.

It was hardly more than a month after his crisis – as he was referring to it in his head – when Minho took him home with him for a weekend.

It took a bit of convincing, surprisingly enough. Jisung was hesitant to miss three whole days of studio time. Thankfully all of the final changes were made and approved for their upcoming album the week prior, and they were just ahead of schedule enough to make some headway on projects that had been sidelined for a while – potential tracks for the next comeback, or the one after that… or the one after that.

The work was never done.

But still, he was frazzled. His focus was absolutely shot. Changbin would ask for feedback on a verse, and he couldn’t finish reading a single line before his mind wandered away. He worried about how the others saw him. He wondered who knew what about his history and how that changed their perceptions. The no-contact order passed easily and Jisung didn’t even have to face him once in the process, but even just the act of pursuing legal action meant even more people knew he was the hidden victim. He hadn’t touched the internet for anything further than watching his shows, but he had no doubt that the end of his uncle’s prison sentence probably made a headline or two – or was at least mentioned on social media. Maybe people were talking about it. Maybe people would find out about him.

As Minho said, he did have a lot of stress on his mind. But the two of them hadn’t made it close to being on that list, as the older clearly feared it might. They never talked about them and Jisung didn’t feel like they had to now. But if that was what Minho needed…

“Is this the DTR talk?” he quipped.

They were laid diagonally across the bed in the guest room of Minho’s parents’ house with their heads close up by the pillows making a sort of triangle – Jisung with a foot still on the floor to the side of the bed and the other resting on the mattress while he lounged flat on his back, and Minho on his side, leaning his head onto his fist propped up on his elbow with his legs curled up. They were leaving plenty of space in the middle of the bed for Soonie, who was sitting close to the foot. They stayed still and spoke quietly, playing the long game trying to entice the cat to come closer.

“What the hell is a DTR?” Minho asked deadpan.

Jisung tilted his head back to see the underside of Minho’s jaw from his upside-down angle. “You know, ‘define the relationship.’ Are you going to be all sappy and tell me how much you loooove me?”

“Jesus Christ can you just speak normally for once,” Minho grumbled, eyes still trained on the cat. Jisung caught his smile though, from where he was still looking up at the other. “Felix asked me about it, and I realized I didn’t know what to say – how to put us into words. So yeah, I’m trying to be sentimental, okay? Don’t make me change my mind because this is the last time you’re gonna get it.”

That’s not true at all, now is it?

Jisung sniffled, unwilling to admit he might be the slightest bit allergic to cats. He averted his gaze back to the ceiling; he could never make eye contact while talking about anything even remotely serious.

“You don’t need to, hyung. We’re on the same page.”

It was so quiet, he heard the sound of Minho swallowing. “Okay. So you know it’s… for me, it’s exclusive?”

Jisung nodded. Of course he knew that. “For me too.”

A deep breath. “And for me… it’s forever?”

Another nod. He didn’t doubt any of this. “Me too.” Jisung laced his fingers together where they laid over his stomach.

“And that for me, you’re the most important person in my life? The only person I’ve never gotten sick of – the only one I want to be around all the time? Every second of every day.” The words seemed to spill out of them the moment he started, and Jisung held his breath to make sure he heard every single one. “And that you make me feel so happy and confident, so loved, so desired, so comfortable? I- you’re… you’re everything to me and I’ve always felt so lucky – every day – that you see something in me worth sticking around for. You know all of that too, right?”

Jisung exhaled the air that he had kept pent up in his lungs, almost choking him. Yes, he knew all of that. He meant it when he insisted that they were on the same page. But Minho may have been onto something with this whole sentimentality thing. He knew deep down, but it felt wonderful to hear it aloud. The spot in his heart that was specially carved out for thoughts about Minho always felt so calm and it was something he reached for internally whenever he felt down or insecure. Now, that little spot felt warm – verging on uncomfortably hot – and filled with buzzing energy. Not bad at all, just… something living and breathing inside of him, separate from his own consciousness.

“Yeah, I- I guess I do,” he stuttered, voice coming out a bit scratchy for some reason. He went to look back towards Minho, realizing that the older was already looking down at him. When they made eye contact, that buzzing in his chest mellowed out – still there, but not so obtrusive. Despite the weird angle, the weight of Minho’s gaze almost knocked the breath right back out of him. It felt like the end of the world, but in a complete, wholesome sort of way – as in, lightening could strike him dead right now and he would feel content and complete. The stark opposite from when he thought his world was actually ending mere weeks ago – the way he still feels sometimes, when things get too much.

Jisung slowly rolled onto his side – matching Minho’s position like they were a mirror image of one another – just so he wouldn’t feel so silly letting the weight of that confession squish him into the mattress. He moved slowly, not wanting to break the atmosphere around them fabricated by their original mission to lure Soonie in.

I feel the same way about you, he wanted to say, but his romantic heart wouldn’t let him simply piggyback on the other’s proclamation. But what could he possibly say in response? ‘You’re the reason I can wake up without wanting to jump in front of a train?’ No, not only was that painfully uncharming, but Dr. Kim told him that kind of admission was too intense and implicated a sense of pressure and stressful responsibility.

Minho reached out with the hand that wasn’t holding his head up, loosely grasping Jisung’s own. “I’m ready to follow your lead here, okay?” the older continued, barely louder than a whisper now, as if he were sharing secrets.

They might have been, had Jisung not known any of this to be true already. Minho had always followed Jisung’s pace, whether they acknowledged it or not. What must be about two years ago now, the dancer made his feelings so painfully evident for months that Jisung felt no hesitation in leaning in to initiate their very first kiss. Minho always let him have his space without acting rejected or pouty, not making him feel bad even jokingly for ever wanting alone time. The one time Minho got a bit too handsy for Jisung’s comfort when they were kissing, he let the younger redirect his hands to safer territory without words – without even breaking the kiss – and never once tried it again or made him answer for it. Minho’s actions behind closed doors had always been what allowed Jisung to feel so comfortable and secure in his arms – in them in general. For all his teasing and bickering, he never crossed a single boundary once Jisung made them known.

“I know.”

Jisung felt shy under Minho’s continued stare, averting his eyes away to his nose bridge, eyebrows, forehead shiny with oils of freshly washed skin. He let his hand be held – cradled, like it was something special – without feeling the need to hold it back just yet.

“Anything you need- anything you want,” the older continued, voice heavy. He’d clearly been thinking about this for a while. “If this becomes stressful and you need to step away from the intimacy for a bit, that’s fine.” Jisung’s stomach clenched at the mere idea. “If it’s the opposite and you need me to hold your hand more often, that’s fine too.” That sounded nice… Jisung’s fingers twitched in Minho’s grip as he imagined it. “I told you this is forever for me, so whatever needs to happen is going to happen. I don’t want you to worry about me or about us for a second.”

Jisung had worried about Minho – just a bit. He’d been caught up in his own head for a couple of weeks, going through the motions of living day to day – hour to hour… minute to minute, really – that he was only hit with the fact that all of this would also be heavily affecting Minho and his friends very recently. He prided himself on his improved awareness as an adult and felt guilty that it took him so long to realize that some of the actions he’d seen around him were born out of anxiety.

It was in the way that he felt Changbin’s serious eyes linger on him whenever they were in the same room. It was in the increase of silly videos Jeongin sent him to lift his spirits. It was in the way Seungmin stopped making him the butt of jokes in the groupchat. It was in the way Felix started coming up with any reason he could think of to pop by their apartment. It was in the way Hyunjin was almost avoiding him – something he hadn’t even noticed until he started picking up on the signs in the others. Signs like the way Chan was constantly checking on him, to the point where Jisung’s reaction was simply confusion.

Minho didn’t leave his side for four whole days following his crisis. After that, he came over daily, rode in the car with him to his appointment with Dr. Kim, brought him meals to the studio, and held him tightly when he spent the night instead of sticking to the other side of the bed because he ran hot at night. Jisung had woken up in the middle of the night just a few days ago, instantly startled to full consciousness by the sight of Minho’s teary eyes and the feeling of his trembling arms holding him close.

 

“Hyung?”

“’s just... I’m right here. You’re right here.” His voice wavered.

Jisung’s heartbeat sped up, instantly fully awake. “Hyung, are you okay?”

“I- Am I- Are you-“ he cut himself off, brushing Jisung’s hair off of his forehead with shaky fingers. “Are you okay?”

The thing was, Jisung didn’t remember Minho spending the night last night… When did he arrive? The room was still dark; the sun hadn’t yet risen.

“I’m… fine,” Jisung answered cautiously. He wasn’t fine, but he wasn’t feeling any differently than the previous night, or the one before that. Nothing that would cause Minho to be in this state.

“Okay, yeah, no, I see.”

Jisung wiggled a bit in the tight grip, trying to work his arms into a position where he could hug the older back. “What happened, baby?” He tried to keep himself from imagining the worst – had his parents gotten into some kind of accident or something?

Minho sniffled and buried his face into Jisung’s hair. The younger’s worry overrode the concern that he might get snot in his hair should he start crying in earnest.

“Nothing,” he breathed out, sounding marginally more composed. “Nothing, I just- I couldn’t sleep- I had this bad feeling.” His breath hitched again. “And I called but you didn’t pick up- which is stupid because it was, like, three in the morning – but then I called Chan-hyung, and then Changbin, and then Hyunjinnie, but no one was picking up, so- and I thought for sure at least hyung would be awake, but- and so I- I just wanted to… I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Jisung blinked into the dark room, not moving a muscle from where his head was being held protectively against Minho’s sternum. His stomach dropped hearing the devastation in the older’s voice. “I’m… Yeah, I’m right here, baby.”

“Everyone was just sleeping,” Minho continued.

Jisung nodded gently, not wanting to dislodge Minho’s arms at all. “I was just sleeping. I’m sorry… I’m sorry I missed your call.”

The older shook his head – Jisung couldn’t see it, but he could hear it, feel it. “It was stupid- of course you were sleeping. Of course everyone was sleeping.”

“Not stupid,” Jisung mumbled. He didn’t know what Minho was so scared of, but he wanted to help him calm down anyway.

“I thought you might have…” Jisung felt the way he gulped. “I thought you might be gone by the time I got he- I came as fast as I could... It was stupid.”

Gone? “Wh-“ Oh. Minho was worried he’d killed himself. He exhaled shakily, the gravity of Minho’s actions hitting him like a ton of bricks straight to the chest. Minho came to his apartment in the middle of the night worried about losing him out of nowhere. Minho was on the verge of tears over the fact that he couldn’t reach him by phone at 3 A.M.

Jisung was shocked out of his temporary numbness he had been living in since his breakdown. After Minho had calmed down and the two of them were sipping herbal teas cuddled up against the headboard, Jisung pressed further.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been very considerate these days,” he began, interrupted by Minho’s affronted ‘Jisungie, no-“ but he continued: “I haven’t, baby.” He had been ignoring his phone more often than not even when he was awake; he hadn’t even considered that Minho would need the reassurance that he was alive. “I’m sorry I worried you, I- I haven’t been thinking clearly.”

“Of course, this was just- I swear, it was just a moment of insecurity. I’m sorry I scared you,” the older insisted, sounding almost embarrassed.

“No, I- I’m sorry hyung. I didn’t think about how hard this would be for you too. You just… you’ve seemed so… composed…?” His tone of voice implied that there was a question in there. An invitation, so to speak.

“I don’t want you to worry about me, baby,” Minho insisted. “I am okay- I am composed, I just- my heart hurts. That’s all.”

Jisung had been so deep in his head for days upon days that he never once given a second thought to the fact that he had very recently put Minho in the position of holding him away from the temptation of death and then dropped an absolute bomb on him with his ‘involvement’ in a very well-known, very public court case before they’d ever met. Jisung couldn’t even begin to imagine what that would have felt like if the roles had been reversed.

“I guess… I hadn’t really thought about it from your perspective, is all,” the younger countered. “I didn’t realize it hurt you this much.”

“Of course it hurt,” Minho insisted, sounding almost affronted, before he had even finished the sentence. “Jisung, I was running on adrenaline for days and when I finally went home to get new clothes, I just- I cried so hard in the shower that I couldn’t stand. I- I threw up right into the drain, I was- I was in there for so long that Seungmin picked the lock- Ji, I-“ His arm gripped Jisung’s waist tighter and the younger blamed that for why he felt so out of breath all of a sudden. “I don’t want to live in a world where you don’t. I- I could have lost you to your demons. And on top of all of that, you- I mean, you’re my-… the-“ A shaky exhale. “Just the thought of you carrying all of that pain inside of you for so long- I just- I mean… My heart aches for you.”

Not ‘the thought of him doing those things to you,’ but… the thought of Jisung carrying it with him for years, letting it shape him and infect him in ways he wasn’t ready to unpack… He’d never felt so seen. And he resolved to make a better effort to reciprocate in any way he could, even if that might look a little different now than it would have previously.

 

It was a sobering moment for Jisung, waking up to the feeling of Minho’s anguish manifesting in his actions, holding him as if he would disintegrate in his arms. It was the deciding factor for why he finally assented to come home with Minho this weekend. He knew Minho didn’t tell him all of that to make him feel bad or guilty. He always trusted Minho to be completely honest in his words (the non-sarcastic ones, at least) and that Minho was just maintaining the standard he’d created for their relationship.

Jisung’s heart ached right back. He scooted closer on the bed, only just realizing that it was empty aside from them – Soonie had left at some point, completely unnoticed. Minho pulled him in with the hand still held in his.

“I want it all too. Forever.” He didn’t want to take a step back, he wanted to hold on tighter.

 

---

 

Jisung trusted Dr. Kim’s judgements and advice, even when it was difficult to determine when they were applicable.

He didn’t have too many lucid moments these days anyway.

Promotions just ended for their recent comeback and Jisung wasn’t sure how much of it he even remembered. Recent memories that should be fresh in his mind felt like gaping holes in his brain, his thoughts having to leap over the chasms they left just to reach his consciousness.

Dr. Kim said it was normal, that living and functioning in panic-mode as his stasis caused his experiences to immediately skip over the short-term memory slot and file themselves away for later, for when he had more energy and brainpower to handle them. Something like that.

All Jisung knew was that he felt like a live wire, waiting for any intervention to cause him to erupt in an electrical fire. His mind was constantly filled to the brim with either complete and utter emptiness or an all-consuming anxiety that everyone who so much as glanced his way could see everything about him – all of his traumas, all of his secrets – emblazoned across his skin like a neon sign.

He lived his life waiting desperately for the next command to snap him out of his head, providing something for his body to do to perhaps distract him from the cyclone that raged on in his head.

Jisung needed it – he needed the work to keep him present in his physical form. At home, he could lose entire days of his life to sleeping and spiraling that he couldn’t even remember passing.

This part of his job was always something he got a bit lost in, though. The parts of the comeback where it all became less free, where his life was narrowed down to stand here, smile wider, test this mic, eat this as fast as possible, deliver your line to that camera over there, bow and introduce yourself, one more run through, one more run through, one more run through, one more run through… one more…

Dr. Kim had told him three things over the past few months that stuck with him to the point where it was all he thought about outside of performing rote actions.

The first was that she thought he should see another specialist. No instead of, but in addition to. Someone trained in childhood trauma for adults who would be able to help him unpack the ways that he taught himself to accommodate for his trauma without confronting it. Someone to tear down the coping mechanisms he’d created on his own after years of dealing with his own brain and teach him to build back up healthier ones. Someone to show him how wrong he was and how to be a real person again, because apparently he wasn’t a-

His thoughts never yielded productive results when he considered that advice.

The next was that he should be careful with what he shared with others. Not that he should avoid opening up to his friends and loved ones – she made that abundantly clear – but that not every thought that came through his head was a productive one to share out loud.

That advice came about when, back when Jisung started joining the studio sessions again, he simply couldn’t avoid making distasteful jokes in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. Changbin couldn’t take his eyes off of him, and Chan tried convincing him eight times a day to go home and take a break, and Jisung had snapped back with a strained smile that there was ‘no point in even getting raped if I can’t even make art about it.’

It wasn’t even funny to him, nor was it accurate. He wasn’t making art about it – he was rewriting rhymes and amplifying snares. But the heavy, awkward silence that followed – the clench of Chan’s jaw and the squeak of Changbin’s rolling chair as he excused himself – led to the advice that Dr. Kim gave him that policed every word that came out of his mouth after that.

Now, before speaking he had to ask himself a few questions:

Why am I trying to achieve by saying this?

If it was to seek support or companionship, it got an instant override. Okay to say. If it was defensive or aggressive, he bit his tongue (or, he tried to). If was regarding his experiences and behavior, it went under review for a few days to determine if it passed the qualification of the second question-

Will this be this productive?

More often than not, it was because he was coming to realizations with Dr. Kim’s help that his past actions had reasons beyond ‘I was an angry, lonely kid’ and he felt the need to retroactively justify his past behavior to the people he hurt – or annoyed – to absolve himself of residual guilt. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem quite productive to bring up past arguments that they had long forgiven and smoothed over, so he kept it to himself. They were things he needed to hear more than they did. The more sessions he did, the more he uncovered how much of his life was still dictated by the trauma that he had been so sure was buried deep at this point.

This question was supposed to help him rephrase things that might be overwhelming or undesirable into something productive that would yield the results he was looking for. However, Jisung usually invented reasons that most of his thoughts would simply be shut down in this two-question review process – something he was sure Dr. Kim hadn’t intended when she introduced it to him. It admittedly made him withdrawn, not wanting to make anyone uncomfortable or upset anymore with his vulnerability.

The last thing Dr. Kim shared with him that occupied his mind the most recently was that she thought he needed to start scheduling things outside of work that he could look forward to. Usually, when he was feeling good, he looked forward to performing for his fans. He loved the rush of the stage and the feedback they got. He loved putting out the songs that he poured his soul into and the praise that came from his members, from the company, and especially from the public.

The stress and anxiety numbing everything over and turning him into a machine just going through the motions sapped the joy out of his livelihood. Performing was sometimes so overwhelming that he simply couldn’t do it – the feeling of being exposed far too pronounced to ignore for the few hours it would take. It left him shaking in a corner of a music show greenroom with his manager guarding the door while the other members did their jobs.

He admitted out loud for the first time that while he didn’t feel like he was particularly a danger to himself, he wouldn’t necessarily go out of his way to avoid things that might threaten his safety. Actually, what he’d said was: ‘I don’t think I’d bother to look both ways before crossing a busy street during peak commutes.’ Dr. Kim took that to mean he needed to reach out to his support system immediately. Instant override situation. No need to ask himself the usual questions.

He still had to deliberate on it for a couple weeks though. It eventually led him to the other apartment on their very first free day of the winter holiday. He’d been there for hours already; he took a long, much-needed nap in Minho’s bed while the dancer went to his appointment with the dermatologist, and then sat down to eat the lunch that the older brought home for them.

Then, before he could even get a word out about what he’d come here for, Minho spoke before he could.

“I know we just started the break, so maybe this is too soon…” Minho spoke without looking at him, eyes trained on his plastic bowl of takeout tofu stew instead. Jisung knew that meant his intentions weren’t as casual as he tried to appear. “But I was wondering if you had some time to consider your doctor’s advice. About the therapy thing?” He took another bite of his soup.

“Yeah, I’ve thought about it,” he replied honestly, finding it hard to speak around the imaginary rock that seemed to lodge itself in his throat every time he thought about it. Trauma therapy. Chan had brought it up to him before, too. He knew Minho must have told him about it. He made the planning part of it sound so easy, but Jisung wasn’t fooled. “Why?” Why are you bringing this up? Why now? What have I done lately to make you think I’m not-

“It’s not you,” Minho continued, huffing as he ate because he refused to wait for his soup to cool down, like Jisung was. “I just thought that, you know, practically-speaking, it might be a good time.”

No, it most certainly wouldn’t be. They just finished year-end public appearances, and they were finally getting a bit of a break. Two weeks straight with no schedules, followed by 3Racha beginning to put together the next album. He needed those two weeks – he’d been so overwhelmed and exhausted lately that he needed that time to recover. He didn’t want to spend the break doing the whole interview process the leader had outlined to him. Not to mention, Dr. Kim said the process of trauma therapy could sometimes take a whole year. A year that he didn’t have right now – they were moving up in the charts, and Jisung being distracted or stepping back would be bad not just for his sanity, but for the success of the group. And if it turned out that it wasn’t bad for the success of the group, he’d then have to contend with the fact that he was entirely dispensable within the team and then his entire identity would be gone too. His life was a lie, he’d have to spend a year working on his deepest traumas all by himself, and then maybe the only close friends he’s ever had will realize that they never needed him around as a team member, so what would be the point in keeping him around for-

“Jisung-ah, where is your head taking you right now?” Minho intercepted the spiral.

“Nowhere,” he mumbled, convincing neither himself nor Minho.

“I’m not asking you to make a decision right now. I just think it’s worth another chat.”

Jisung stayed quiet, debating what to say. Debating what would be productive to say. Apparently, he stayed quiet a bit too long.

“Baby, I’m not trying to minimize what it might be like, I swear. I just meant that, with the next few months of reduced schedules, it might be easier to start soon, if it’s something you think you might be interested in.”

Jisung bit the inside of his cheek so hard it stung while his eyes remained trained on his untouched soup. His somersaulting stomach wasn’t so attracted to the meal anymore. He and Chan both insisted that this was Jisung’s decision in the end, and despite the fact that this was only the third time the topic had even come up, it seemed like they already made up their minds on what they wanted him to do.

He was feeling a bit ambushed – not ready to talk about this right now. He’d come here with a mission, had spent days now working up the courage to talk to Minho about what Dr. Kim said about needing to create little moments of joy, and now it felt so silly and pointless in comparison.

Minho was trying to get him to conceptualize the long-term, big picture stuff that Jisung wasn’t sure he was ready to tackle, while he was just looking for something little to get him through each day as it came. So stupid. It seemed childish.

Minho glanced up; Jisung could tell despite still looking down at his meal.

“Do you want me to drop it? I’ll drop it,” the dancer’s tone shifted.

Jisung swallowed hard, trying to force that stone down his throat to let his words come out. Yes, please shut up please stop yes plea- “No, it’s…” his voice broke. “I just wasn’t…” expecting. “Right now, I-“ I’m not ready, not right now, please.

“Hey,” Minho interrupted, utensils clattering to the kitchen table. “Baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spring this on you.”

Jisung shook his head. He shouldn’t be apologizing, it’s a normal question, a normal conversation, I shouldn’t be so sensitive, it’s just-

Hands on his wrists pulled his arms down from where he’d begun pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, desperately wanting to stop the urge to cry that overcame him so suddenly he couldn’t even prepare for it.

Stop being so sensitive, he asked you to think about something- but I have been thinking about it – it’s all I think about, there’s no-

“Hyung’s sorry, baby. I know you don’t like it when we bring these things up so suddenly.”

They shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells around him – he wanted to be normal and for things to go back to the way they were but-

“Why don’t- let’s take a step back from that conversation, yeah? Wait, let me get you some water-“ and he was leaving the table.

Jisung took several gulps of air, trying to get ahold of himself again. This was so stupid. He only hoped nobody else would come out of their bedrooms right now to see him acting like this.

Minho was back soon with a bottle of chilled water, pressing it to the back of his neck and his cheeks before handing it off. He followed the path of the bottle with his lips, giving him gentle kisses on the nape of his neck and leaning down to peck his cheek next. Jisung smiled despite himself, taking a huge sip of water.

Minho stayed leaned over the back of the chair Jisung was sitting in, arms draped loosely over the younger’s shoulders, crossing at the wrist in front of him. He rested his chin on top of Jisung’s head once he’d finished tipping his head back to drink.

“Do you need a minute alone?”

No.

Yes?

“I don’t know.”

The tears that threatened to fall seemed to have withdrawn, which was a good sign, but his voice still wavered.

“How about you go do the cold water thing and I’ll get our food set up in my room instead?”

The cold water thing was something he’d always done to pull himself back from potential anxiety attacks, something Dr. Kim recommended over a year ago that often worked, but only when he wasn’t at the peak of an attack. It was more preventative if he had enough time to get to a sink, or an aid to help him come down afterwards.

Jisung nodded, Minho slipping away when he began to move, heading to the ensuite that Minho and Jeongin shared with his head down. He felt like he was floating over the wood floor, aware enough to feel embarrassed, but not present enough to feel the weight of his own limbs.

He locked both doors to the bathroom, ensuring his privacy, then fished around in the cabinet beneath the sink for one of the clean washrags stacked up neatly. He turned on the faucet as cold as it would go, wetting the rag and folding it up before holding it on the back of his neck with one hand – goosebumps already popping up at the temperature – while he leaned over the sink. He propped himself up on the cold countertop with one elbow, letting gravity hold down the rag as he pulled his other arm down to help hold himself up over the basin of the sink.

Then, he let his hands meet under the stream of cold water, first allowing the frigid water to run over the backs of his hands, watching the way it hugged the sides of his hands and fell in a fanning spray as if they were tiny umbrellas, then turning them over to wet his palms and fingertips.

While he focused on the movement and the temperature of the water, he counted himself through five breath cycles.

Inhale and hold. The sound of the pipes pushing water through. Exhale.

Inhale and hold. The muffled thumps of Minho moving about on the other side of the door. Exhale.

Inhale and hold. The smell of the soup that was waiting for him. Exhale.

Inhale and hold. The bubbles that formed from the collecting water when he cupped his palms. Exhale.

Inhale and hold. The small splash when he moved his hands apart and let the water in them slap against the porcelain edges. Exhale.

He let his hands fall limp and droplets of water to drip off of his fingertips for a few seconds before he lifted his gaze back to the handles of the faucet. With another deep breath, almost a sigh, he shut the water off, the sudden silence shocking him further into the present.

With his hands still wet, he pulled the towel off his neck, unfolded it carelessly and pressed his face into it. When he noticed his right leg aching a bit, he shifted his weight over onto his left, pressing that elbow harder into the solid countertop as well to balance. He rubbed his face into the material of the rag, scratching it softly against his skin.

He let it fall into the sink, uncaring who it might bother later, and then unlocked both doors. He took another counted breath before stepping into Minho’s bedroom.

His hands were still wet, and the slightly cold air in the room chilled his wet skin – his hands, the back of his neck, and his face. The hair at his nape was even so wet that it caused more droplets to roll down his neck, underneath the collar of his shirt. The sensations caused him to roll his shoulders back and stretch his fingers out, but he felt quite aware of his surroundings.

Minho came back into the room from the hallway at that point, smiling softly at him as he placed the water bottles in his hands onto the work desk by the door.

“Feeling alright?” he asked casually, stepping towards Jisung with his arms extended and palms facing up in invitation. Jisung’s breath almost caught in his throat again at the desire for a hug that hit him so suddenly.

He indulged.

“Oh baby,” Minho mumbled, not sounding pitying at all. Jisung felt the last of the butterflies in his stomach settle at the feeling of Minho’s sturdy torso against his. “I was thinking just now.” In the one minute I was away? “I think maybe we should schedule a time to talk about it instead.”

Jisung’s heart skipped a beat; Minho always understood him so well. He knew that his sudden panic wasn’t an answer in itself – wasn’t a no, wasn’t at all Jisung’s cowardly way to shut down the discussion Minho clearly wanted to have. He just needed time to formulate his thoughts to make sure that what he was saying was productive. He just needed to think.

“You could pick a day,” Minho continued. “All I wanted to talk about was what you think about it. Pros and cons, hesitations, whatever. I can just be your sounding board – no pressure to agree to doing it.” Jisung nodded, chin hooked over Minho’s shoulder before turning his head away to rest his cheekbone more comfortably against him.

Like that, he closed his eyes to avoid getting distracted by the random objects around the room, just focusing on the little bubble they created.

“And then right afterwards, maybe we could do a little self-care night. Take a bubble bath, I could give you a massage, or- oh! We could do a date night instead?” The corner of Jisung’s lips turned up as he listened to Minho’s stream of consciousness, no desire to interrupt. “We could kick the boys out, make dinner or order in, watch some- oh, what’s that show? The one you like with the couples who break up, and like-“

“Exchange?” Jisung offered barely higher than a whisper. The way Minho’s chest rumbled against his with his voice stole all of Jisung’s focus.

“-they- yeah, Exchange- what night does that air? We could do, like, a watch party- just the two of us. Tons of snacks and shitty TV-“

“Not shitty-“

“-and I’ll order some of those cooling facemasks that-“

“Friday.”

“-Jeongin has, and- what?”

Jisung sniffled, grin growing wider by the second. “It airs on Fridays. We could do it Friday.” The talk and the date. “I never watch it when it right when it comes out though, Fridays are usually pretty busy, so I ju-“

“Well they won’t be now, right?” Minho’s started scratching up and down his back with his short, blunt nails. “We have time now. We can do it weekly, yeah?”

He pulled back, arms sliding down until he held Jisung’s elbows. The younger swayed a bit when he realized he had been leaning some of his weight on the other’s body. He blinked his eyes open, seeing a slightly darkened spot on Minho’s t-shirt where Jisung’s damp face had been pressed.

“But you like to go see your friends on Fridays sometimes,” Jisung protested, wanting to accept more than anything, but needing the reassurance that it wouldn’t be a bother. Weekly date nights sounded like exactly the kind of thing Dr. Kim recommended. Something to look forward to.

He finally looked up into Minho’s face to see him looking at him confusedly. “So? I’ll see them on Sundays or something, I’d much rather do this.”

“You don’t even like Exchange.”

Minho’s brows furrowed even more. “I can endure anything with a few pudding cups in hand. I’m in this for the snacks.”

Jisung giggled, knowing that as soon as Minho was cuddled up to him with the promise of pudding, he’d even start to enjoy the drama of the couples’ lives unfolding too, even if it was just to make judgmental comments – one of his favorite pastimes.

The show was like song fodder to Jisung, too, and he’d been painfully unmotivated lately. He could keep his notes app open to jot down ideas that he’d fool himself into thinking he’d actually look back on later when he was in the studio.

“I would really like that.”

 

---

 

The loud, shrill beeps of a rice cooker announcing the completion of its task startled him awake on the living room couch.

His uncle stood before him, soft smile on his face in the late morning sunlight that streamed through the big bay windows in the open-plan kitchen and living room.

“Good morning, Jisung-ah. You slept like a log, huh? I should stop letting you stay up late playing those video games, shouldn’t I?”

His eyes were still blurry, groggily adjusting to the bright light in a way that made him feel still so exhausted, even after a full night’s rest. His whole body was sore, the way it always was when his uncle let him stay up late. His bottom even ached from sitting on it for so long on nothing but the cheap cushions that sat in front of the TV. His empty glass from the night before still rested inconspicuously on the low wooden coffee table.

“I’m making eggs,” he gestured towards the stove with a grey rubber spatula. “You still like your yolks fully cooked, right?”

 

The loud, shrill beeps of a rice cooker announcing the completion of its task startled him awake on the living room couch.

It was bright. Jisung gasped, clutching his chest as he shot up. The room was lit by a bulb from above, not the natural sun. This wasn’t right.

Spinning to where he knew the kitchen to be, he was met instead with a large, flatscreen television and a glass coffee table. Glass, not wood. This wasn’t right either.

There was no familiar smiling man towering over him, no one around at all.

Quick, he’s not here-

Jisung was at home, right?

Hide quickly, he’s not he-

The dorm he lived in with his members, with…

Get out before he comes i-

Jisung’s hands made fists in his t-shirt, trying to feel something real under his fingertips.

His body ached- did it ache? There was… it was empty. It hurt… Jisung took stock of his body –  could have sworn there was pain somewhere – aching.

He was groggy, just like-

Get out now!

Jisung stumbled to his feet, his leg having fallen asleep while he was laying and the pinpricks doing nothing but adding to the pain that was coursing through his body, it hurt.

Jisung knew why it hurt now, i-

STOP stop stop thinking, stop- he was in the dorms. The dorm he shared. The dorm he shared with his friends- but he couldn’t be, because his body ached – it ached like- STOP.

He was dizzy, stumbling over his feet as he felt sick all of a sudden. He kept one arm wrapped so tightly around his stomach that his fingertips pressed painfully into his side – pain – while the other hand slapped over his mouth.

‘Good morning, Jisung-ah-‘ STOP.

Bathroom – he had to get to a bathroom. Bathrooms had toilets, so he could –

‘I’m making eggs,’ rubber spatula? The stove?

He gagged around his hand, tripping and almost falling with the force of it. Bathrooms had locks, too.

‘Good mor-‘ STOP!

Locks.

He ran, breath coming in short gasps, towards the nearest bathroom. In the dorm. In the apartment he lived in. Not in his uncle’s house-

‘I’m making eggs,’

No no no no no no

Thank goodness the door was open – he couldn’t move his hands. He threw his body against it once he was inside, slamming it back shut.

‘I should stop letting you stay up late playing those video games, shouldn’t I?’

He gagged into his hand again, struggling to get a breath back in afterwards. Where was the toilet??? His head spun, his whole body spun, looking around frantically. Eye-level, a toilet- eye-level? He was on the floor, both hands pressed into the cold tile underneath him now, coughing harshly towards the ground, a string of spit was all that came out.

‘You slept like-‘ Stop please stop, Jesus fucking “Fuck!”

Where was the goddamn toilet? One hand reached out in front, grasping what might be the toilet bowl, the other out to the side, gripping something equally as cold, but much sturdier. Sturdy sounded better. His body curled around the cool, hard surface to his right, digging his ribcage into it as his body pitched forward. He’d never felt so dizzy in his life.

‘I’m making eggs,’ he gestured towards the stove with a grey rubber spatula. ‘You still-‘ STOP, fuck, I’m at home-

He was at home, at home, at home in his apartment, at home with- someone else?

He wasn’t supposed to be home alone, right? He wasn’t allowed. Someone was-

‘Good morning-‘ His body ached. It hurt.

Hyung!! Someone was home. Someone would come. He gagged again, spitting a few times. He braced against whatever solid surface he’d thrown himself against, dizzy, aching. It hurt where it dug into his stomach, it hurt where- it hurt.

Hyung! Please, he sobbed, unable to take in enough air around his sobs – they felt like sobs, at least. But he didn’t have the air for that. He did, though. There was air in his lungs – too much of it. But they came out as wheezes, gasps to stuff his lungs full of too much air, heaving to get it back out so he could scream for-

Hyung! Someone was home, right?

He felt himself collapse sideways, completely unable to hold himself up even with the support of whatever was pressed into the bottom of his ribs just before.

His empty glass from the night before still rested inconspi- Stop! “Hyung! Pl-”ease! “Hyung!”

His butt hit the tile below him – pain, is bottom even ached from sitting on it for so long on just the cheap cushions th- STOP thinking. His body leaned sideways, hands coming up to cover his ears, but it didn’t stop him from hearing the blood rushing through them, the ‘Good morning, Ji-‘ stop stop “Stop!”

He couldn’t get a breath in.

Someone was here. Pulling his head up – when had it come down, chin pressing into his chest? He couldn’t breathe – Changbin?

Hyung, please-

His lips moved, the heels of Jisung’s palms pressed against his ears harder, hearing the muffled popping and crackling of the air pressure in his ears being-

“Sungie-“

Not, ‘good morning, Jisung-ah.’

He was gagging again – over what? The feeling-

“Sungie, come here.”

Please make it stop, hyung, shut up shut up shut UP!

He opened his eyes to blackness, took a sharp breath and accidentally inhaled fabric. The bridge of his nose hurt where it was pressed firmly into something hard.

‘Good morning, J-‘

“Hyung, please please pl-“ He ran out of air. Pressed his hands harder against his ears. It sounded like waves crashing, but not enough to cover-

‘You slept like a-‘

“Stop!” The moment he had enough air, he released a short burst of a scream, doing anything he could to drown out his uncle’s voice in his head, squeezing his eyes to get his smiling face out of his brain. “Hyu-“

There was a hand on the back of his head, gentle against his scalp but firm in the way he couldn’t move his head back a single centimeter, holding him against the other’s body.

His body hurt, it ached, his ribs, his legs, h-

“Sungie, you’ve gotta breathe out-“

He was trying.

“M-Ma-Make it- hyung-“ Make it stop, please.

He coughed more harshly, bumping his nose harder into what he was beginning to recognize as Changbin’s shoulder. He groaned out the rest of the breath that came after the cough.

“Come on, buddy.”

“I feel si- I feel sick,” he cried out, hoping his desperation was coming through appropriately. Changbin had to understand how dire this was. If he didn’t stop thinking in the next 5 seconds, he was going to choke on his memories until he completely suffocated.

He was at home. It wasn’t even a memory – was it not? – Jisung wasn’t sure if the image in his head was a real memory or some combination of a few memories, or something he fabricated, or – it felt so real though. Felt like he was watching a movie of his life, but still from his own point of view.

But I’m not, I’m at home. Changbin is here.

Something was forcing his hands away from his ears, but Jisung’s arms shook to keep them in place. I need it – it’s protecting me. He was weak though, with the effort of keeping himself even remotely upright and gasping for breath.

“Noise-canceling hands, yeah?”

His friend’s voice sounded crystal clear in the brief moment that his ears were uncovered before Changbin’s own, thicker hands took their place.

It wasn’t tight enough, he could still hear- Jisung squeezed his own hands over Changbin’s, pressing them down harder against himself to try to incite that loud static again.

His chest hurt – everything hurt.

“Let’s move, Han-ah.”

No, it hurts. I need this-

But the hands didn’t leave his ears. Elbows squeezed into his body to help him onto his feet, and Jisung pressed his face deeper into his hyung’s chest to block out everything around him visually as he mindlessly let the older guide them out of the bathroom, tripping over each other the whole way.

He was sat – ears still covered, eyes still shut – onto a plush chair.

the cheap cushions that sat in front of t- Stop! “Hyung-“

“-still here, Ji.”

He knew he must be. It was still his hands holding his head, covering his ears – not tightly enough-

“-need a distraction?”

Yes, please make this stop, please just-

He knew where he was. He knew who was here. Everything was fine. It wasn’t a memory – was it a memory? Either way, that was all it was. Just fell asleep on the sofa…

Jisung pulled his legs up onto the chair, curling over them, needing to close himself off from the world around him.

The hands stayed put. Jisung moved his own to grip onto the wrists instead. His teeth chattered so hard he might have bitten his tongue.

“-the laundry, so I’ve still got to do that today,”

Laundry.

“-except for one, because Seungmin put his dirty socks in my laundry basket when he came over and blamed me for the water puddle he stepped in in the kitchen-“

Making Seungmin annoyed wasn’t wise. It was fun, but not wise.

He didn’t remember anything about a puddle, but he recalled Seungmin being here, annoyed, earlier that week.

Also earlier that week, Jisung had his third ever prolonged exposure appointment. Maybe that was why he couldn’t stop thinking. Remembering.

“-cery delivery got delayed because of the storm yesterday, so I couldn’t do it until today but he wouldn’t shut up in the gr-“

‘Good morning, Jisu-‘ Stop.

His hands squeezed the wrists he was holding, exhaling another groan of frustration. He was right here, in his own apartment.

They hadn’t even gotten close to working on those kinds of memories yet in his sessions. This week was just about an argument he had with his brother when he was a pre-teen. A frustrated older brother sick of the annoying, spoiled little Jisung getting his way all the time. What a piece of shit.

No I’m not, it’s not my fault.

Jisung sniffled, finally feeling like he could empty and refill his lungs. His eyes opened slowly, letting the light filter in over the course of what must have been minutes. He listened to Changbin keep talking about his mundane plans that week, pointedly steering clear of the work tasks he had scheduled so Jisung wouldn’t feel so left out.

Jisung wasn’t allowed to work right now. He was supposed to be taking a break.

 

“It’s really something they recommend for everyone who goes through prolonged exposure therapy.”

“But not everyone does, right? People can still do it. Maybe they just take it slow?”

”Well, people like yourself who have the financial stability and the support system to allow them to take time off work to complete treatment are really quite lucky, all things considered.”

“But other people do it-“

“Sure, if they have to, but remember that other people’s jobs don’t mean standing in front of a hundred thousand people with cameras. Other people don’t go viral on Twitter just for blinking.”

 

Lucky enough that he was able to shake it up last minute to stay with his second support system when he realized it would be much more comfortable where he already was. He needed to be here. And he was taking a break, trying to internalize Dr. Kim’s words about his new doctor’s judgement.

“Hyung.”

Changbin’s relieved sigh was felt, more than heard, in the slackening of the arms bracketing him. Jisung tugged on the wrists he was still holding onto so the hands lowered from his ears.

They weren’t truly doing much to block noise – they were just hands, after all – so there was no rush of sound returning to him upon the release. It was still quiet in the apartment, Changbin’s haggard breaths almost matching his own.

The action did, however, bring forth the awareness of the tears flowing freely down his own cheeks, catching in the corners of his lips and dripping off the end of his trembling jaw.

He was so grateful to be back in his home, in his body – in Changbin’s room, he gleaned from a quick flit of his eyes around him. Changbin, who was directly in front of him, leaning back against his desk behind him and pitched forward with a foot up on the office chair that Jisung was occupying. Changbin, whose hands lowered from his ears easily but remained holding his head just underneath. Changbin, who was looking at him, absolutely horrified.

“You here with me, Han-ah?”

Jisung shuddered through another breath, catching the exhale on a little sob.

“Hyung, I can’t do this…”

If this is what prolonged exposure therapy entailed, this wasn’t sustainable. He couldn’t live like this. They hadn’t even started talking about the big stuff and his brain was already conjuring up memory after memory all on its own.

According to Dr. Kim, his brain was trying to prepare him for the experience of sharing some of the touchier parts by having him face it alone in his own time, like he’d always done. It didn’t feel so helpful.

Even now, he genuinely couldn’t recall this exact memory, unsure if it was drawn directly from a past experience or a combination of every morning he woke up there, hints at what he knew now interspersed throughout to help him make sense of everything.

He only understood later what all of that meant. Later, after the night when everything blew up. Later, after his family had shamefully fled the country with him and they had to return once a month to meet with lawyers – lawyers who showed him the pictures beforehand to prepare him f-

“No no Jisung, where are you going? Come on back.”

Changbin was crowding fully into his space, one hand slipping up to the back of his head. Jisung blinked his eyes back open, realizing he’d been holding his breath only when he began feeling dizzy and recognized that the blurriness wasn’t coming from the tears blocking his vision.

He gasped, gripping onto Changbin’s bicep now. He went to curl over his knees and ended up knocking his forehead into the older’s collarbone. That worked too. His fingers squeezed tighter.

He was too exhausted to feel the usual embarrassment he would get after a panic attack. This didn’t feel the same though… Panic attacks drained him – whatever just happened made him feel like he’d just swam the length of 32 Olympic pools while piranhas chased him. He was certainly out of breath and shaking as if he really did swim that far. He was more than drained; he felt like there wasn’t any of him left inside his skin at all, really.

“Hyung, I really-“ his voice didn’t even sound like himself. “I can’t do this, hyung, I ca- I can’t d-do this.”

 

---

 

“Hyung, wake up.”

A hand patted softly against his shoulder rather than shaking him up. Jisung’s eyes opened, scanning his surroundings right away.

Jeongin stood above him with a thoughtful look on his face, his eyebags dark with the usual exhaustion of peak comeback stress.

Looking past his friend, he recognized the pattern of sound proofing installed in front of the ceiling tiles, a defining feature of the JYP studios. The feeling of the leather couch beneath him confirmed the theory right after.

Jisung groaned as he stretched his limbs, unaware of what time it was, what day it was, anything of the sort. Just as usual.

Well, not usual. Just the current usual.

If Jisung thought he was a robot during the last comeback, it had nothing on this one. He was not thriving, that was for sure. At least he could still sleep, though he did little else in his free time.

He wanted to ask Jeongin… something. What time is it? What’s going on? Why did you wake me up? But he knew that, like usual, an order would come eventually and he would follow without complaint, secretly grateful that the all of the choices regarding the minutiae of daily life were taken out of his hands.

Once again, go here, do this, hold these, go sit for hair and makeup, time for rehearsal, smile wider, bigger, more more more.

No bother. He wasn’t thinking about all of that anyway.

“Hyung’s gonna come pick us up to go home. Want to go down and wait in the lobby?”

It was a question, but not really; it was the illusion of choice. He didn’t want the choice, so it worked just fine.

Jisung nodded, sitting up with a sigh. He grabbed his big tote bag, full of a few sets of clothes, toothbrush and basic skincare, chargers, headphones, an eye mask… Other odds and ends. He wasn’t sure exactly, hadn’t quite reached the bottom of it yet. The bag allowed him to pop from place to place, sleep wherever he was. Ironically, it was all thanks to Jeongin and the boys that he felt comfortable enough to be such a nomadic napper in the first place; teen Jisung would have never been so bold.

Truth be told, Jisung simply couldn’t handle spending a second alone right now. It was why he made the executive decision to push forth on his therapy journey while also participating in their comeback, completely forgoing the hiatus recommendation. One of their managers had even offered his spare bedroom up to Jisung during the remaining months of his treatment plan so he would have someone around more often than the members would be, but he turned him down because he needed to be with the group, with his friends.

He didn’t trust himself to be alone for a moment, to have access to the internet while everyone else did all the work, performed, enjoyed one another’s company. He was, however, granted the reprieve of not having to appear in any unit content. No mandatory livestreams, no appearances on radio or internet shows unless it was the whole group, no solo schedules whatsoever.

He simply followed whoever was around him until someone picked him up and took him somewhere else. He slept wherever there was a sofa or a bed, provided that it was close by. Day and night had no meaning to him anymore. He’d come with anyone anywhere, whether it was because he had to or not.

As Jisung stood and followed Jeongin down the hall, he tried to recall all that he had done today. It was more of a mental stimulation exercise than anything. Trying to keep himself grounded in his body.

He knew they were at the company, that the dorms must be empty if he was here sleeping on a studio couch. Jeongin had a vocal lesson to help him keep his performance up through the last week or two of promotions. Danceracha was here, right?

Ah, they were here. Who knew if they still were now. Jisung followed Jeongin up to the studios because he would get better sleep there than on the ground in the dance studio with the music blasting.

Jeongin said they were going home, too. Probably back to the other dorm, not that it made a difference.

Under normal circumstances, Jisung would probably hate having this kind of uncertain schedule, but he’d asked for this, and it was better than staying home by himself until he was needed for his own schedule. It was better this way.

“Do you want to stop to pick up some food on the way?” Jeongin’s voice interrupted his musings.

Not particularly. He didn’t say that, though. What if Jeongin wanted to stop for food because he was hungry, but he wouldn’t if Jisung didn’t want to? What if he was too tired to stop but he would make the effort if Jisung was hungry? He was considerate like that; he would put Jisung first right now. The rapper didn’t know what he was supposed to say. Both yes and no felt like wrong answers.

“Let’s just go home,” Jeongin decided for them. “I’ll text Minho-hyung to heat up one of your meals.”

Jisung swallowed but kept his eyes forward as they trudged through the hallways. He really wasn’t hungry – didn’t know what time it was anyway. He’d rather just go back to sleep when they got there.

He didn’t object though as Jeongin took his phone out to type the message. Jisung knew the maknae was really worried about him; Jisung might have even been worried about himself if he could spare a single brain cell to anything other than sleeping, breathing, and following orders. And therapy.

He knew Jeongin got happy and excited whenever Jisung was feeling a bit better; he recently recalled teasing Changbin in front of the SKZ Talker backstage while being painfully aware of the fond gazes of some of the others while they watched him goof off. Minho, he expected. Chan, even more so.

Jeongin was a bit of a surprise.

 

The maknae stepped in and posed dramatically – like a superhero might – before grabbing Changbin’s wrist and chopping his elbow, causing the older to howl as if he was actually hurt.

“Let him go, hyung!”

Changbin, who had been playfully wrestling Jisung when he’d had enough of his teasing, released him as he collapsed into giggles at the dramatics. Then, he only laughed louder when Jeongin lifted him as if he were a damsel in distress, running across the room yelling “I’ll save you, hyung!”

“I feel like a princess,” Jisung huffed, when Jeongin dropped him on a free sofa across the room.

“Yeah, maybe Princess Peach,” Jeongin teased, pinching his cheek painfully.

Jisung swatted him away. “Don’t princesses get kisses after they’re rescued?”

The maknae rolled his eyes. “I thought they kissed their rescuer…” He presented his own cheek for Jisung to peck, and the rapper’s eyes widened in shock. It almost ruined his mood, to tell the truth – the way Jeongin was clearly giving him special treatment because he knew Jisung wasn’t doing well. The gesture to make him happy was bittersweet – simultaneously a reminder of the oppressive reality.

Before he could overthink it any more, he planted the loudest, messiest kiss on Jeongin’s cheek, knowing he’d have to get his foundation touched up afterwards. Jeongin’s disgusted face was accompanied by an absolutely affronted squeal, and things felt normal.

 

Jisung knew that Jeongin wanted him to have more of those upswings, that he felt calmer and more settled when Jisung smiled at him genuinely.

Jisung would be blind not to notice the tension he was causing everyone by just being here. But he needed to work, needed to be close to his support, even if that meant exhausting himself beyond the point of emotional burnout.

He was grateful that despite the extra stress, there wasn’t much more the others really had to do to accommodate him right now. They had a game plan already in place for his anxiety and panic attacks, and only minor adjustments were made this time around.

No drawing any extra attention in public or on camera. Everything must be handled subtly. Jisung would rather deal with it on his own while cameras were rolling than have his members surround him, worrying the fans and halting filming. He could handle it. And if he couldn’t, he knew what to do to signal that he needed to step away.

Still, he felt guilty knowing he was the reason the overall mood was low sometimes – especially for their maknae, who was empathetic almost to a fault.

Jisung didn’t know if Jeongin knew how important he was to him.

The younger led them to a bench in an alcove in the lobby while they waited for their manager to finish fetching the car, and Jisung felt a tiny surge of energy all of a sudden. Perhaps it was spurred on by the guilt, or gratitude, but whatever it was, it made him ache with the need to make Jeongin happy.

He thought back to Minho sitting him down all those months ago just to make sure Jisung knew how he felt, and how good it felt to hear – regardless of whether he knew it already – that he was loved and appreciated.

Jisung loved and appreciated his members, but he didn’t know how to tell them in words that fully encompassed his past, present, and future without giving up too much information that would make them sadder than it would happy.

Jisung sat on the bench, eyes raking over Jeongin’s slouched shoulders where he stood in front of the rapper, glancing around the empty lobby. The windows showed off the black sky and streetlights outside – nighttime. Jeongin looked exhausted – more than he usually did. He had to let Jeongin know that he was more than enough as he was. He couldn’t stand the worried eyes that the maknae had trained on him now – now that he’d grabbed onto the younger’s wrist and tugged a bit to get his attention.

“What’s wrong, hyung? Should we go wait somewhere more private?”

Jisung cracked a smile at the consideration. He needed to let Jeongin know how much he appreciated him.

But… what am I trying to achieve by saying this?

Certainly, this counted as seeking companionship, right? Instant override? Certainly, he could let slip some aspects of his past experiences if it’s to help give a compliment, right? So long as I stay prudent and respectful… Certainly, expressing his gratitude was productive… Right?

Jeongin stepped closer and Jisung realized he’d gotten lost in his head again.

“N-No, Innie, I just wanted…” He sighed. This was okay to say. “I’m just thankful, that’s all. Thank you for letting me come with you to your practice even though I didn’t help at all. Thanks for taking over. For everything.”

Jeongin’s concerned expression only deepened. “Of course, hyung. I- Are you alright?”

Perhaps he needed to be more specific after all. “Could I- uh… Could I tell you something?” All of this was relevant and made sense with the thought process going on in his head, but it might be a bit sudden to Jeongin. He tugged on the younger’s wrist gently.

Jeongin’s eyes softened but remained wide and inquisitive. “Sure, yeah, you can…” His voice was quiet, not wanting to echo in the large open space. He sat himself down on the bench next to Jisung, which felt a lot more natural. Less intimidating.

“It’s just that… I was thinking about how grateful I am. For you… and the guys, of course. But… I don’t know if you remember – back when you just started as a trainee – I... I just couldn’t sleep – anywhere. Especially not in my bed at night.”

He really didn’t know if Jeongin would remember that far back. For Jisung, it was years of struggling before Jeongin showed up at the company, but from Jeongin’s perspective, he was sure it wouldn’t have had the same impact. However, it was a stark difference from his behavior after debut, able to fall asleep pretty much anywhere in a matter of minutes.

He kept his gaze low, on Jeongin’s knees, to avoid eye contact.

“And the trainee dorms were so chaotic – so many people. It was… actually… I uh – I asked to be transferred to your room. Really quick, too, we only just started being friends. God – I’m sorry, I’ve never told you that…”

His skin started heating up, feeling clammy and shaky the way he did when he was approaching an anxiety attack. Why am I so nervous?

“I asked because… I felt re-really comfortable with you. As a friend. And it’s just…”

God, how much do I need to say? He had no idea how much Jeongin knew about him; didn’t know what he’d known before, what he’d looked up on his own, what he’d talked about with the others. All he knew is that he hadn’t let a word slip to the maknae.

“Well, I used to – no, sorry.”

He sighed heavily. This had no business being so difficult. Dr. Kim told him it might help to be more open with his friends, but Jisung didn’t know how much was appropriate and how much was unproductive. Not to mention how vulnerable it left him.

“Hyung,” Jeongin interjected, even more softly than before. “We can forget about it, if you want. But… You can tell me anything – I actually, uh, want you to tell me, if you can. I’d really like to know.”

Okay… can’t argue with that logic.

He took another breath, almost cringing at the way he knew Jeongin could hear it shaking. “D’y’know, he would give me, like, a… like, double the adult’s dose of cough syrup at night. Mixed into a diet cola. He called it cherry Coke. Just to- you know, to, um. For heavy sleep.” That’s enough, he gets it- he gets the picture. “Uh… So I just – I don’t know, sleep hadn’t ever felt all that relaxing, or-or safe after. It’s not something I really always thought about that way – not like… It wasn’t like, every night was traumatizing or something, it’s not like that.” Stop rambling – get to the point.

Jeongin was patient beside him, politely avoiding looking in his direction. He was still and quiet; it made him feel like they had time – like their manager wouldn’t be pulling up any second, waiting for them in the car, wanting to go back home to his family.

“What I mean is – your friendship meant a lot to me. Means a lot to me. You’ve always… I’ve always felt… comfortable around you. Enough to sleep easy, even when we’d just met each other. I slept so much once they let me move into your room in the trainee dorms.” It was true – he’d gotten in trouble for it a lot, actually. “I thought I’d get kicked out of the company with how many times I was late to practice, I slept so hard,” he joked lightly.

“I- I’m sorry I ever made fun of you for that…” Jeongin interjected, his voice showing intense emotion, but Jisung wasn’t sure which emotion.

“No,” he insisted immediately, finally looking up at the younger. “I, honestly, I was happy that it was even something I could be made fun of for once. I thought it was kinda funny too – that’s not what I was getting at. I just wanted you to know that I’ve always-“ so embarrassing… “-felt safe around you?” he trailed off, sounding a bit like he was asking a question. “Always,” he reiterated. “Even back when, like, before the… you know. Just by… being you. And being a good friend.”

He averted his eyes again, worried his voice would waver too much.

“That’s all I wanted to say. Is just… thanks.” Gee, well put…

“Thank you, hyung.”

 

Jeongin’s response in the days following his mortifying open-heart confession honestly sparked Jisung to reconsider the tight lock he kept over his heart and his lips. The maknae seemed much more assured in his interactions with Jisung and even with others. He joked around more with Jisung, like he used to – brought him into his antics again and started initiating silliness instead of waiting for Jisung to do it. He still wasn’t quite his normal self – but Jisung couldn’t be too sure how much of that was his fault and how much of that was just due to the comeback.

Either way, if baring his bleeding soul, even just a piece, helped Jeongin feel better about everything, perhaps it was worth it.

It had Jisung revisiting all of the conversations he wanted to have months ago that he shut down immediately for not passing the 'questions test.'

He thought he might finally be getting the hang of it – of why Dr. Kim recommended it in the first place. It wasn’t to shut him down from communicating; it was simply a safeguard to make sure he was being intentional in his words and not oversharing in a way that caused stress or pressure for his support system.

In the coming weeks and months after the comeback ended – in which time Jisung wrapped up his whopping 7 months of trauma therapy, the group had somewhat of a break, and then they started a world tour – Jisung had a lot more moments of feeling present in the moment and in his body, whether he was feeling good or bad about that. In those moments, he found little opportunities to slip his revised thoughts into conversations with his members to let them know the ways they’d helped him and that he appreciated them.

He just had to adapt his original thoughts by removing some of the self-insults and injecting enough vulnerability as he could bear while keeping sight of his goal. What am I trying to achieve by saying this? He wanted to reassure his friends – to strengthen their bonds and help them understand why he is the way that he is.

Instead of telling Seungmin ‘I’m sorry for being a piece of shit sometimes when we lived together – I was probably really hard to put up with because my parents felt guilty for inadvertently letting my pedophile uncle have free reign of my body so they never made me do chores,’ he tried: “Thank you for being patient with me way back when. It was hard adjusting to having to take care of myself after my parents overcorrected with the coddling. I really appreciated how you never held it against me, and I think I was able to mature a lot thanks to you.”

Seungmin’s smile was as sincere as ever, but something in his eyes told Jisung that he'd already made that connection on his own.

Instead of telling Hyunjin ‘sometimes I used to think the other guys pitied me too much to tell me that they didn’t actually want me on the team, but at least you told me to my face,’ he said: “I hope you don’t worry too much, because I feel really secure in our friendship. I’d always struggled with relating to people, whether that’s just my personality or because my life was so different from other kids, so I’m actually thankful that you were always real with me. I feel like it helped me understand my place on this team – and in the world, I guess – a lot sooner than I might have otherwise.”

Hyunjin ugly cried over it. Jisung graciously waited until after they hugged to take a picture of it.

Instead of telling Changbin ‘I think I irreversibly fucked up my relationship with my older brother when I was a teenager after ignoring his existence for years and kind of accidentally assigned you that role in my head as a replacement for him,’ he told him: “I’m really grateful that I have you as a brother-figure in my life. I know you do a lot to protect me and help me even when you think I’m not looking. I’m sure you’ve noticed that I tend to self-sabotage, so thank you for never letting me push you away.”

That one hurt – both as a hit to his pride because he and Changbin did not share like that, and also as a hit physically, because… Well, because Changbin responded by punching him in the arm, causing him to scream as the force knocked him entirely over in their Toronto hotel’s gym.

Instead of telling Chan ‘I don’t know what you saw in a kid who couldn’t make their own phone calls, disguised themselves behind an offensive layer of false bravado, and ended up putting the whole group in jeopardy by hiding a massive secret,’ he confessed: “I can tell the way you’ve always motivated me differently from the others, and I am grateful for the way you adapt to my needs. I hope you understand why I never told you sooner… It had nothing to do with how much I trust you. Honestly, I think I only even made it this far because I know you always back me up in my choices, especially now that I have a better grasp on how real life works.”

Jisung didn’t sympathy-cry when Chan had sniffled through his own 20-minute speech, no matter what the leader told anyone about it (not that he would).

Minho…

Jisung wanted to tell Minho that long ago, he never thought he would be able to have a normal relationship in his life and that he’d already established long-standing walls to protect his poor, hopeless romantic heart from the lifetime of loneliness he was expecting by the time Minho made his interest known. He wanted to tell Minho that his confidence in knowing that he was right there, loving him unconditionally, was the only thing that got him through some of those darker days during his treatment. That when he felt like he was sinking, he reached inside of himself to consult the part of his heart that he’d given to Minho. That sometimes just a brief touch of his lips was enough to keep him standing because it was proof that he hadn’t already let his traumas overtake him. That despite how lost and disconnected he felt when in the thick of his therapy, he couldn’t imagine how much worse it would have been without him by his side – wasn’t even sure he’d have felt the courage to start it, much less see it all the way through, alone.

And Jisung still wasn’t really sure what to say to Minho, nor had he ever been one to filter his words around the older (he’d be cooked if their chat logs were ever leaked).

So, he just told him all of that. Tacked on a few ‘I love you’s for good measure, too.

 

---

 

Privacy was a welcome pleasure.

Once Jisung could bear to be on his own again, the precedent he’d set for himself no longer worked. It happened during tour – when he decided he needed a bit of space all of a sudden but found it incredibly difficult to procure given the current conditions.

After shutting himself in his bedroom for two whole days upon returning to Seoul, Minho suggested moving out. Or rather, moving in. Together. Just the two of them.

They pitched it to the leader, who shrugged and brought it up to management, proposing they all split into pairs as they were getting older and more successful (even Jisung’s little blip – well, little from the fan’s perspective – wasn’t enough to slow down the opportunities that kept coming their way).

It wasn’t granted right away. It took almost a year, in fact, before they saw the results. Months in which the world kept spinning, the boys kept working, Jisung kept trying.

He felt better – took him a long while after drudging everything up to stop feeling like an open nerve, like everyone – really, everyone, even people who had no idea – was looking at him with pity and judgment.

But he could confidently say he was doing better these days. He’d been able to switch from weekly appointments with Dr. Kim to bi-weekly 30-minute sessions, and finally back to the monthly 1-hour slot he used to have.

The privacy was enormously helpful.

The company got them a 3-bedroom, and Jisung took over the spare room as his office/studio/music room. The quiet did wonders for his mind; Minho was a calm and considerate housemate/partner. Supported them having separate bedrooms and never really made too much noise. Cuddled when they wanted and slept apart when they needed. Doing everything at Jisung’s pace.

And Jisung, frankly, was reveling in it. He’d had a lot on his mind.

Namely, how much he loved staring at Minho’s side profile without worrying that someone might walk in and make gagging sounds at his lovesick expression. When they would be lounging back against the pillows watching something on the television in Jisung’s room and he would get distracted, tucked into Minho’s side, looking up to see the flashy lights from the TV lighting up the angles of the dancer’s face, highlighting his sharp jaw and the attractive point of his noise. He was so pretty.

He'd been thinking about that for a while. Probably a bit too much – ever since last Thursday, if he was being honest with himself.

 

“Yo,” Hyunjin called out, slamming the door behind him.

Jisung knew he was coming over to pick Minho up to start their new regime from the personal trainers which involved riding bikes for some reason, but he still startled at the noise, dropping his phone onto the countertop he was leaning on sipping his morning coffee and scrolling through Twitter.

“Hey Ji, you seen the scary one around anywhere? Yea high,” he gestured to the height of his nose, “bored eyes, constipated expression?”

Minho piped up from the hallway as he made his way into the living space before Jisung could even formulate some kind of joke back.

“Thighs of steel, sucks dick like a champ? That the guy we’re talkin’ about?” the dancer quipped, whipping Hyunjin’s ass with a long sock on his way to the front door where his shoes were.

Hyunjin’s disgusted expression almost made Jisung spit out his coffee. At least, that’s what he told himself was the cause. Hyunjin then turned to give Jisung a ‘what the hell’ look.

“Literally fuck you for putting that image into my head, hyung. I’ll be sending you my therapy bill.”

“Ooh, imagining me?” he’d responded, slipping his other sock on without bouncing around like an unbalanced pogo stick. Nice.

“As if!” Hyunjin played right into his trap. He turned back to Jisung, still looking appropriately affronted. “Is this what you deal with all the time? By choice?”

Minho glanced over at them, untying his shoes and leaning against the wall looking far too good in his sportswear. ‘Thighs of steel,’ or whatever he’d said. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He was speaking to Hyunjin, but the wink he sent Jisung while he said it made him flush all over.

He just coughed, an excuse to bring the back of his wrist up to cover his mouth, hiding behind the coffee in his hand.

 

“Hyungie, can I have a kiss?”

“Hm,” the older smiled in the sweet, loving way he did, but barely took his eyes away from the screen as he leaned down to grant his request.

“No,” he whined. “Like a proper kiss. A real one. More than 5 seconds.” His feet kicked out petulantly at being ignored. The older’s smile deepened, turning a bit playful. It made Jisung’s stomach swoop.

Minho dragged his eyes away from the documentary as if it pained him, sweeping Jisung off his feet with a passionate, more-than-5-seconds kiss… before he smirked and returned his full attention to the screen.

Jisung’s jaw dropped. “Hyung,” he huffed. “Hyung, why aren’t you paying attention to me? You didn’t even want to watch this with me.”

“Mmm,” Minho hummed. “I’m coming around to it.”

Jisung turned back to the television, rolling his eyes when he saw it had reached a segment about the male ballerinos in the Korean National Ballet. He hadn’t been paying attention for at least the last five minutes.

“Oh, I get it, hyung. You’d prefer to stare at strong dancer butts on a TV screen than touch my – very real – butt. Right now. Right in front of you. That’s fine,” he said with a long, drawn-out sigh, settling back against the pillows.

“I don’t know about prefer,” he said with a grin. “But they’re quite nice, don’t you think?”

“No,” he grumbled jealously. “Bet mine’s better. Binnie-hyung talked me into-“

“Hold up,” Minho interrupted, jostling them both as he sat up and lunged for the remote.

Jisung, even more playfully offended than before, squawked at the movement. “What??”

“You just implied that those guys’ butts weren’t th- look!” He pointed, pausing the show. “His, over there in the corner. One sec, let me rewind, the ones fr-“

“Oh my god!” Jisung wailed, kicking his foot out in Minho’s direction. “I didn’t say they weren’t good, I just said that mine was better!”

“Yes you did,” Minho argued spiritedly, still focusing entirely on rewinding the program to the exact right spot.

“Did no-“

“I said ‘they’re quite nice, don’t you think?’ and then you said ‘no-‘“

“I did not, I said ‘I bet mine’s better.’”

“No you said ‘NO, I bet mine’s better.’ Listen, comparatively, obviously I prefer your tiny little butt-“

Jisung gasped dramatically.

“- but you just said that these weren’t even good butts, which is just plain wrong, and honestly offensive to these poor athletes who train their glutes day in and da-“

“No wait, go back, you think my butt is tiny?” The older was obviously ignoring that comment entirely.

“Look,” Minho exclaimed, finally reaching the right spot and pressing pause again. “These three guys right in the front. Take in that definition and then look me in the eyes and tell me those are sub-par asses right there.” He turned back towards where Jisung stayed sprawled up by the pillows, looking as serious as he did when he reviewed their dance content.

Jisung broke into giggles at his expression.

“I’m waiting, babe. Take a good look.”

Jisung indulged him, glancing up at the screen to see an honestly indecent camera angle with nothing but butts and thighs in sight, strapped into dance belts, leotards, and tights. He hummed through the last of his laugh, looking back at Minho’s unchanged face. “I like yours more.”

“Obviously, but that’s not what I asked-“

“Fine, hyung, they’re nice butts,” Jisung groaned, throwing his arms in the air in defeat.

“Thank you-“

“Now can we address that tiny butt comment?” he countered, trying his best to sound angry.

Minho dropped the remote to be forgotten at the foot of the bed and then crawled forward, grinning widely. “Turn over,” he commanded, grabbing one of Jisung’s knees for balance and slapping at his hip.

“No, you’re just gonna make fun of my small a-“

“Make fun?” Minho interrupted, sounded appalled. “No, I was just going to touch it a little bit.” He was still playfully pushing at him, trying to get him to roll over and show off his bum. He wasn’t trying too hard obviously, because Jisung was still able to hold his ground.

He whined, curling towards Minho to try to trap his hands, turning it into a bit of a wrestle. The dancer finally laughed back, throwing a leg over Jisung’s lower body to try to hold him down. When Jisung went for a trick shot, tickling his fingers under Minho’s shirt all the way up his side, he managed to dislodge the older.

Flipping their positions so Minho was flat on his back, Jisung straddled him to ensure his victory.

However…

“Aha!” the older yelled triumphantly through his laughter, firmly grabbing onto Jisung’s ass with both hands. “There it is. Barely fills up my hands, huh baby? Such a cute little butt.”

Jisung’s face must have flamed red. He knew butt-grabbing was not a sexual thing for Minho – he did it to the others for fun, and to Jisung for… Well, for ‘stress-relief,’ according to him. ‘Like my own personal stress ball. Perfect for squeezing.’

But with the direction of his thoughts earlier, with the dancer’s comment to Hyunjin playing on repeat in his mind… it felt nice.

“Can I have a real kiss now, hyung?”

Minho’s face almost split from how wide his smile grew. “Come here.” His hands slid up his back, pressing into Jisung’s shoulder blades to pull him down onto his chest.

And thank goodness Minho knew when to shut up.

Jisung was happy to initiate, pleased with the way that Minho’s head tilted up to meet him as if he couldn’t wait for him to finish leaning down all the way to connect their lips. They both hummed softly at the contact, one of Jisung’s elbows resting on the bed and his other bent and trapped between their bodies, hand pressed flat against the older’s sturdy chest.

After a while, Jisung was surprised to find that the other was the one to deepen the kiss. His hands settled securely on Jisung’s waist as his tongue poked out between his teeth. Jisung always let him in so easily.

Today, though, his body was probably heating up just like his face had. He reluctantly pulled away, sliding off to the right and settling on his side just so he wouldn’t feel worried about the press of their hips. He gripped Minho’s t-shirt in the hand that was on his chest, pulling him in to follow his lead so they could keep kissing.

Perhaps ‘worried’ wasn’t the right word. He wasn’t necessarily worried about Minho noticing his arousal; they had talked about it recently after all, over a post-lunch dessert-and-coffee one day in their new place.

 

“Hyung,” Jisung called, requesting Minho’s attention. “D’you remember – probably not, it was… a long time ago…”

Minho only looked at him thoughtfully, dropping his phone onto the table to give him his full attention. Jisung mirrored, putting his spoon down.

“Um. Do you remember one time… There was one time when – it was in the old dorm, the first one from- in your little fort-bed – when – and we were kissing – when I, uh, well. You tried to, um, start something more, and I- I rejected it – I pulled your hand back. Do you remember?”

Minho pursed his lips but maintained his impassive expression, revealing little about his thoughts. “Mm. Yeah, I do.”

Jisung’s eyes widened just a bit. “I guess I just wondered. Um. I wondered why you never tried again.”

The older sighed, tilting his head to the opposite side. “What do you mean?” He looked – and sounded – nothing but inquisitive. This didn’t feel like a test.

Jisung sagged his shoulders, hoping for a much easier conversation than he was getting. “Well, I just want to ask, because it’s been years, you know? Why didn’t you ever try to, um. To touch me again?”

“W- I mean, because you said no, didn’t you?”

“Not… Well, not in words.”

Minho squinted his eyes at him and Jisung felt like he was being read like a book right here in front of his dessert.

“No, I guess not. But I just assumed that meant you either weren’t ready or weren’t interested, and if that ever changed… Well then, I’d expect you to try next, not me.”

“And what if I never did? I haven’t.”

Minho shrugged. “Okay.” He reached out to grab his drink, taking a quick sip.

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Minho’s expression softened. “I don’t know. That’s just not what I’m here for.”

“But you would- you’d stay with me. Forever, just like you said. And you want me like that, don’t you?” He didn’t wait for Minho to answer; he knew already. “So what- how did you know that… Like… I guess…” He was having a hard time wording this in a productive way – not putting himself and others down in the process. Minho let him have the time he needed to work it out. “It doesn’t upset you at all?”

“It’s just…” Minho stalled to collect his thoughts. “I guess the whole demi thing shifts the way that I view things like sex.”

Jisung nodded. He’d looked up everything about demisexuality back when Minho came out to him years ago, but… “But that doesn’t mean you don’t want it, right? With me?”

“Well, it has nothing to do with desires and whatnot. I think it just makes me think differently about it. I don’t think I put a lot of stake on sexual intimacy in a relationship, in my head. I get a lot from other kinds of intimacy, like the physical and emotional kinds.”

“But you hate being emotional,” Jisung grumbled, trying hard to understand.

“I don’t mean, like, emotional talks. Just being close, underneath the surface. The whole ‘I know you, you know me’ schtick. When you take care of me and when you let me take care of you. It makes me feel… whole. Fulfilled.”

Jisung hummed in response, fiddling distractedly with his spoon again. That made a lot of sense to him. Not prioritizing sexual intimacy.

 

It gave Jisung a lot to think about, and a lot to relate to. He figured he also didn’t really feel like it was all that important to him. He himself was attracted to all kinds of people – but it didn’t often translate into desire. His arousal was… fickle.

Now, he wasn’t worried that Minho was wanting more from him than he could provide, and he wasn’t worried about Minho’s reaction to him showing a physical response to their intimacy. He was more worried about how badly he wanted it but wasn’t sure about his ability to follow through.

It was always weird for him. He’d probably only averaged one orgasm a year, if he had to count. He tried a bit more often than that, but everything had to line up for it to work out; conditions had to be perfect – both his physical surroundings and his mental state surrounding the act.

The feeling of Minho biting his lip a bit too hard had him jerking his head away.

“Wha- the hell?”

“There you are, baby,” Minho chuckled, slipping a hand under Jisung’s shirt and gently massaging the muscles in his lower back. He leaned in for one more kiss, and Jisung simply forgot to be embarrassed about getting distracted.

What he didn’t forget, however…

“Hey hyung,” he said, pulling away again.

“What’s up?” Minho had asked at the same time as Jisung had just barreled into his next thought:

“Would you- oh sorry.”

“Go ahead,” the older encouraged, looking at him as he always did – with every last ounce of affection he held in his body.

“Ah-“ Jisung exhaled, almost feeling overwhelmed with the attention. “Would you maybe want to… I mean… I want to- um- touch a bit.”

Minho smiled the same way he would if Jisung had asked him if he wanted to order in tonight, and it settled his nerves immediately.

Taking that as an answer, Jisung tugged on the bottom hem of Minho’s t-shirt. The dancer propped himself up on elbow, pulling his shirt off seamlessly before Jisung excitedly guided him back in. Leaning to lay more on his back than his side, he slid his hands up and over the skin of Minho’s back as he leaned down over him to reconnect their lips.

While the older’s hand settled back onto his hip, Jisung’s were mapping out the cushioned muscles all over his torso, digging his fingers in whenever he could just to get a closer feel in. He loved how Minho’s functional strength looked and felt under the press of his hands.

When Minho’s tongue slid along his lip again, Jisung pulled back just enough to mutter a quick, “want you to touch, too,” before angling his face back to accommodate the curve of Minho’s nose against his. He felt the dancer’s fingers twitch against his side and smiled into his mouth.

He pulled back again. “Like this,” he said, sacrificing an exploring hand to slide down Minho’s arm, to clasp over the back of his hand and guide it up and over the waistband of his sweatpants, fingertips resting between the thick cotton pants and the thinner material of his boxer briefs.

The rapper took the lead on the kiss as Minho settled into the request easily. When Jisung realized he’d just been groping at the Minho's chest while the dancer's hand reached lower, he chuckled softly, both in embarrassment and in anticipation. The laugh caused him to clench his jaw just enough to accidentally bite softly at Minho’s tongue, making him exhale his own laugh. He slipped his own hand away from Minho’s once he began massaging in earnest over his half-hard length.

Jisung thought a lot about what he would want this to look like – decided he’d rather it be entirely spontaneous. Minho gave him the reins and the power to control when and where this happened – if it happened – and he knew that planning any aspect of it would make him more stressed than excited.

The only thing he knew was that he just wanted to stick to something small and inoffensive to start, should the desire ever present itself.

He didn’t feel like his past experience necessarily affected this part of him the same way it might for others. He didn’t even categorize what happened to him in his childhood as ‘sex,’ which helped to separate that from this.

This being the warm, firm, gorgeously tanned skin of Minho’s chest under his fingertips, the heel of his partner’s hand grinding down on him with alternating pressure and fingers slowly feeling over the length of him through only a thin layer of fabric, his tongue gently grazing over his own- wait. Not anymore.

Minho pulled his head back, chuckling as Jisung instinctively followed, nudging his nose. He didn’t have a second to feel upset at the loss of contact because the dancer was attaching his mouth to the side of his neck instead, and- oh…

Apparently the spot where his jaw connected under his ear was a sensitive one; it startled a vocal sigh out of him, choking off as soon as he realized he’d made a sound at all. One of his hands flew up to hold onto the back of Minho’s neck to keep him close.

He stopped caring about it when the feeling of soft lips, wet tongue, dull teeth kept up right in the same spot, causing his hips to stutter up against the pressure on his front and a whine to escape his throat.

A puff of air from Minho’s exhaled chuckle only made his skin feel hotter.

They’d talked a lot about experience that same afternoon as before, at their kitchen table.

 

“But you’ve, like, had casual sex before, right?” Jisung had pressed on. He didn’t think Minho was a virgin when they met, but he didn’t know what was a joke or what was the truth with the older's words right at the start. Now, of course, he could read him like an open book, but that took time and practice.

Minho kept a straight face as he answered, not turning on his usual teasing. “Mm. Yeah, with Changmin, from high school.” Jisung nodded, expecting that. He had met Changmin when they visited Minho’s hometown; they were on the same high school dance troupe. “Waited til we graduated and I joined a professional team before we did it, though. And even that wasn’t really about desire, you know? It just… it felt good and it was convenient.”

Jisung hummed, pushing some crumbs around on his plate distractedly.

“And when it stopped being convenient, we stopped. Sometime just after debut.” He said it with a shrug, coming out so nonchalantly that Jisung had no choice but to take his word for it. If that was how easy it was for him to have – and not have – sex, then so be it.

"But you like it, right? Sex?"

"Yeah. But I guess it's kind of like dancing... It's great to do it together, but I'm also perfectly happy to dance solo, if you know what I mean. It's fun either way."

Jisung smirked. "So you'd like to dance with all the other guys too, hmm?" he said suggestively. "You like dancing in front of the fans?"

Minho flicked the crumpled paper from his straw wrapper at him across the table. "Don't go twisting my words, asshole."

He glanced back up to see Minho sipping on his drink, peering at him through his eyelashes. “I’m not- uh. I’m not a virgin either.” He was nervous, had never talked about this with Minho. He realized early on in trainee days that talking about his sexual experience got a lot more confused noises and pitying glances as he grew up – older boys and men finding it a lot less cool and a lot more concerning than younger ones did.

He swallowed hard before continuing. He was really making an effort to be more open with people now. “I was, like, 12 or 13-ish.” He waited for the wince – the judgmental look – that never came. Minho’s face remained neutral. “Um. And it was this girl named Nabi, our families went to the same church and our dads worked together.” He placed the spoon back on the table, making too much racket with the metal against his plate. “She was only about a year older though. It came out during a game at an overnight camp that she wasn’t a virgin.”

Jisung clasped his hands together, trying to appear chill but knowing Minho could see right through him anyway. He’d never really spoke about the rest of it with anyone – his thought process, how it actually went.

“So I- I told her later that I wasn’t either. Be-because at the time, I thought, you know, I thought I wasn’t. I thought that what h- I thought that counted. What happened,” he justified loudly, missing Minho mumble something around his straw. “What was that?”

“Sorry,” Minho apologized for interrupting. “I just said ‘virginity is a construct.’ I didn’t mean to say it, I just- sorry, you can keep going.”

Jisung cracked a smile; Minho was always so opinionated about the most random things. “Did you miss the point where I said ‘overnight church camp?’” he giggled, defending his past thought process. “Anyway. Her family was about to move to the US, so we did it once when we were hanging out after she got home from school one day, and it was super awkward.” He’d watched a lot of porn using his brother’s VPN when he was deep in his ‘understanding what sex is supposed to be like’ phase, and really thought he’d be able to perform alright. He even knew to use a condom, and was proud of himself at the time for the forethought.

“It was just… um. Like, I wasn’t all that good at speaking English at that point, right? Like, I only knew the explicit words, but not the basic ones-“ again, from all the porn, “-so I’m sure it was really cringey from that perspective too. It was just really… you know, I was pretending to know everything, and she was pretending to know everything too, so… god, I’m getting goosebumps all over again,” he said, letting out a soulless laugh out of embarrassment, rubbing his hands over his arms as if he was cold.

“Uh, it was all just so performative and over the top and clumsy. I didn’t like it at all. Haven’t done it again.” He exhaled heavily, speaking up again in he lull just to put off hearing Minho’s response for a few moments longer. “I don’t even think I was into her at all, to be honest. So maybe that… maybe that had… something to do with…” Probably not; it certainly had a lot more to do with the fact that a ’12 or 13-ish’-year-old had absolutely no business having sex. “Please say something.” He gave up.

“I’m… sorry you had such a bad experience with it,” Minho offered, speaking more softly than usual. “I assume you know that it doesn’t have to be like that in the future, right? With the right person, maybe. And a good decade more of maturity?”

Jisung flushed, knowing Minho wasn’t trying to shame him – he probably just really wanted to verify that Jisung’s mindset had progressed to a healthier place since then. “Yeah, probably,” he mumbled.

Minho nodded, maintaining his comfortable eye contact with a smile now. “Good. Thank you for sharing that with me, baby. I appreciate the trust.”

 

A sharp bite right to his earlobe made Jisung flinch, a shocked sound escaping him. His hand tightened its hold on the older’s neck, taking stock of his body to realize that he must have been zoned out for longer than he thought, because his other hand had fallen from Minho’s chest to his bicep and the dancer had removed his hand from his pants at some point, taking its place back on his hip.

“Ah, hyung, why’d you stop?” he asked breathlessly.

Minho chuckled, nosing at his ear. Jisung squirmed in sensitivity.

“Started getting soft, thought you might be losing interest.”

Jisung relaxed back into the mattress and flattened his hand back out on the other’s nape. “Sorry baby, I was just thinking.”

“You keep doing that,” he whispered, placing a chaste kiss to his neck and nuzzling into his hair like a cat.

With a sigh, he slid his left hand back up Minho’s arm to his shoulder, turning his head towards his but only succeeding at bonking their temples together. “Help me stop?”

“We can try,” Minho said, leaving a firmer kiss on the side of his neck.

“Wanna try,” Jisung breathed out, trying to get back to before – refusing to acknowledge that, once again, he’d let himself get too into his head and that the moment had passed. “Want it, baby,” he pleaded, pushing his thigh between Minho’s legs and pulling his hand back down into his pants. “Come on.”

He hadn’t gone completely soft, and the moment Minho reattached his mouth to suck on the hinge of his jaw again, he definitely felt the physical sensations coming back strong. He pushed down with his hand, adding pressure onto Minho’s hand, which in turn added pressure onto his crotch, which obviously felt nice.

He couldn’t help but feel silly now, though. Now that he’d been transported out of the moment and been reminded of his lack of experience – his embarrassing sexual history, some weird voice in his head provided. It felt comfortable; he didn't feel like he had to pretend to know anything he didn't, but...

It made him feel a bit ridiculous, to be honest, that he was sitting here at his grand age trying to get off with a bit of over-the-underwear rubbing instead of other people his age who didn’t have weird hang-ups about having full-blown sex. He couldn’t even blame his uncle, because as he himself said, that didn’t count as sex.

Well, neither does this, huh?

It all felt so juvenile, immature, so high-school.

“Baby,” Minho’s voice pulled him back to the present, and he realized he’d zoned back out.

“Shit…” he groaned, throwing his head back against the mattress. “Sorry hyung, I just- I feel like such a kid right now.”

Minho physically recoiled, an overdramatically disgusted look on his face, and yanked his hand out of his pants to point an accusing finger at him. “First of all, fuck you for saying that with my hand literally on your dick. I am not into children-“

“More than I can say about the last guy.”

Minho’s eyes snapped to his and in the long beat of silence that followed, Jisung’s stomach dropped, skin going cold. Oh no, he’d been doing so well not to make distasteful jokes about-

Minho’s expression cracked, his absolutely floored expression melting as he let out a burst of shocked laughter, covering his mouth as if trying to stop himself from reacting. However, when Jisung started shaking from the force of keeping his own laughter contained, they both collapsed into fits of giggles, curling over each other for support and throwing their bodies back onto the bed.

“I- so sorry-“ Jisung gasped through the laughter, swiping a tear from his eye. “Not- not even fu-funny-“

Right when they managed to gather themselves up again, Jisung happened to glance towards the television, which still displayed the up-close-and-personal image of dancer derrieres featured on every pixel, causing them to fall back into peals of unrestrained laughter. At some point, Jisung was on his side with his head buried in Minho’s stomach, while the older leaned over him, slapping at his butt as if he couldn’t contain himself.

All things considered, they probably just needed a good laugh together and their brains were happy for any remotely humorous occurrence to get them there.

Minho recovered faster, sighing vocally as if he’d just worked out and reaching to grab the remote from the foot of the bed. “Keep watching?” he’d asked, patting Jisung’s head where he’d curled up into a ball and shook from the last bits of laughter that he fought to keep in.

He only managed a nod, not trusting his voice at the moment.

Once they settled back into cuddling on top of the pillows, Minho spoke up again as the show droned on. “Thank you for conceding about the butts earlier, baby. I don’t know what I would have done if you doubled down,” he pressed on. “I don’t know if I’d be proud to be seen in public with someone who holds such blatantly wrong ideas a-“

Jisung choked on his own spit. “Excuse me? What happened to loving me through every decision I make? Are you really that shallow that one difference in opinions would be enough to shake your countenance?”

“Well, baby,” Minho pouted. “It’s not so much an opinion, now is it? Their butts are factually excellent and to say otherwise is an obvious lapse in one’s logical judgment. I don’t know if I could trust you anymore.”

 

---

 

Only about a week later, Jisung was sat on his living room floor, absolutely engrossed in trying to comprehensibly paint the letters S-T-A-Y over his nails with a white accent polish while Felix and Hyunjin kept gossiping across from him.

A long time ago, back when Hyunjin caught wind of Jisung and Minho’s date nights and how much they helped Jisung cope with his recent struggles, he’d insisted on starting up something of his own. They happened much less frequently though they tried for once a month, and it usually just consisted of painting their nails. Sometimes he would just paint Jisung’s nails, and sometimes he’d let Jisung paint his. Sometimes he just sketched while Jisung did his own. Then, they chat about pop culture and tabloid stuff for 2 hours.

Recently, Hyunjin started calling them wine nights after he brought a bottle of wine one time when their last tour ended and he was feeling particularly celebratory. The wine wasn’t always present, though. This time, it was whiskey, and Jisung had taken one single sip of his before dumping a can of cola into it and taking only about three more sips of it throughout the evening.

Today, Felix was also a new addition, jealous of being excluded from their little ‘gossip club,’ as he referred to it. They were settled in Minho and Jisung’s apartment, because Jisung recently went through a productivity high of ‘settling in’ and buying furniture and art to make the place more homey, knowing he’d only invite guests over maybe twice a year. Apparently now was one of those times.

It was a good thing, too, because it felt really cozy to be sitting around the new kotatsu they’d set up last month, curled up on plush cushions with their legs being comfortably warmed beneath the table as they passed around Jisung’s only LED gel lamp for their nails.

He tuned back in when he heard Hyunjin’s suggestive tone of voice asking Felix what he’d been up to the previous evening. Jisung’s interest was immediately piqued, especially when there had only been a loud thump and Hyunjin’s squeal of  “OW!” in response.

Jisung frowned, putting two and two together and realizing that Felix hadn’t mentioned a single of his escapades to him in a long time. Felix used to tell him all about his nighttime quests, and Jisung loved feeling included in his life that way even though he had a contractual obligation to act disgusted every time.

He bit his lip in thought, suddenly understanding that Felix was avoiding talking about sex around Jisung. He glanced up at the other two – an oblivious Hyunjin and Felix with a fake smile…

“You know you can still talk about all the weird, kinky sex you’re having in front of me, right?” Jisung asserted. “I’m not, like, traumatized about it. It grosses me out as much as a normal person, no more no less.”

Felix’s jaw dropped. “It is not kinky,” he exclaimed, Hyunjin’s snickers following behind.

“Yeah, okay mister stray kitty,” he responded disinterestedly, referring to a years-old encounter Jisung vowed to never let him live down, before turning his attention back to his nails. He was working on the Y on his pinky, and it required his full concentration.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Felix angrily throw back the rest of his drink, almost slamming the glass back down in mock offense while Hyunjin howled out some kind of scream-laugh hybrid, throwing himself down onto the ground.

“Fine,” Felix grumbled playfully. “I did go to Iseul’s last night.”

Ah, a repeat offender. Nice to know she was still on the roster since the last time Jisung had been privy to Felix’s bedroom life.

“Iseul?” Hyunjin spluttered, all but giving up on his nails and scooting back to settle against the edge of the sofa behind him with his drink in hand. “I thought- y’know, ‘cause you were walking all funny this morning at dance… and Minjae was eying you, I swear.”

Jisung snorted a laugh, sliding his finger under the lamp to cure just in time to catch Felix’s jaw drop again. “With Minjae? I have never- wait, was he really looking at me like that?” His attitude switched in an instant, suddenly giddy.

“Oh my god he looked so stupid,” Hyunjin blabbed on. Jisung was happy to sit back and listen, taking another pained sip of his drink.

“Well, did you give him my number?” Felix asked, reaching for the lamp when Jisung’s finger finished under it.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “I can. I swear, I don’t get how you guys do it, like with the butt stuff, you know? Like- all that prep and clean-up, and, ugh,” he shivered. “Where do you even get the time?”

Felix laughed, turning the LED on to cure his top coat and leaning back on his free hand. “I only have one guy in the rotation, you know. And even then, we’re not doing, like, full on, dick-in-ass, penetrative sex every time we meet up. That’s not how that works.”

“So what, you drive 20 minutes just for a blowjob?” Hyunjin asked incredulously.

Jisung looked up at that, done admiring his new manicure and suddenly a lot more interested in the direction of the conversation.

“Um. Yes? Among other things?” Felix replied as if it should be obvious. It wasn’t obvious, not to Jisung. And clearly not to Hyunjin, either. “I’m honestly a little worried that you’ve only received blowjobs you wouldn’t drive 20 minutes for.”

Jisung swirled his drink around in his glass as he pondered the words. He supposed the only thing he really knew about sex in his adult life was from media – a notoriously bad source for educative sexual information – and what he was told, in passing or explicitly, from his friends’ experiences, but he was always too nervous to ask follow-up questions about it. He kind of was under the impression that other people were having porn-worthy, back-blowout sex every time they hooked up.

“Wait, who’s the guy?” Jisung interjected; he must be a new addition. Last time he caught up with Felix, he’d unfortunately just had to drop the person who’d taken his gay-virginity because he was moving back Daegu for work.

Felix lit up like a candle. “Jaeyoon,” he gushed. “That event photography intern from KBS?”

Jisung had a stunned expression. He remembered even joking himself that he thought the intern was a model who walked into the wrong room.

Felix mistook his silence for confusion. “The one with the brown leather jacket- he tripped over that table leg in th-“

“No, I know who he is, I was just surprised you had game like that.”

Felix’s hand clenched around his still empty glass with a pinched face while Hyunjin went to refill it, trying to hold in his laugh. “You know I pull- I- you’ve seen my- wait,” Felix ranted, trying to pull his cellphone out of his back pocket that he was sitting on with his one free hand. “Let me show y-“

“Felix, I swear to god,” Jisung laughed back. “Stop trying to ruin a good joke with the truth.”

 

---

 

Jisung really should have stopped at one beer.

He didn’t know why he couldn’t be a fun drunk like Hyunjin. He’d even take being a sleepy drunk like Seungmin. Hell, even sloppy karaoke drunk Changbin would be preferable.

No, Jisung was cursed to be a sentimental drunk. Two sips too many and he’d be gushing over Minho’s ‘perfect brain’ and ‘loving eyes.’ Two more sips and he’d be happy-crying over the Bubble feed, seeing fans he’d never met before share their accomplishments and worries with him.

A whole bottle after that, and Jisung was prepared to cut his heart open at a celebratory team dinner once the staff had all left, leaving just the members behind in the private salon at the restaurant they’d booked.

“I love you guys,” he’d mumbled, voice already wavering.

Hyunjin cackled across the table. “Oh no, someone take Hannie’s beer away,” he gestured lazily with his hand in his direction.

Minho, right next to him, only cooed at him as he slipped their hands together, making no move to remove his almost-empty second drink.

“You're so cute, baby,” he said, painfully fond. Someone (Seungmin) fake-gagged.

“No,” Jisung insisted. They didn’t get it. “No, I love you guys so much.”

“Aw, hyung,” Jeongin whined, while Felix wiggled up onto his elbows to stretch across the messy table so he could hold Jisung’s other hand. “We love you too,” he said.

“I’m just so th-thankful,” he cried, tears slipping free. Half the boys rolled their eyes with affectionate smiles, while the others became frazzled by the tears. Chan, for one, was frantically searching the table surface for any clean napkins left over to offer as a tissue.

“’m so happy you guys are such good friends to me,” he continued, leaning his head over onto Minho’s inviting shoulder.

“What brought this on so suddenly?” Felix asked through a nervous chuckle, settling back into his seat but still reaching his arm comically far to rest it on Jisung’s forearm.

“Nothing,” he whined. “Just wanted you all to know how much you mean to me. You’re, like, my first friends.” Maybe that sounded pathetic, but he was too tipsy to care.

A chorus of ‘no’s and ‘I’m sure that’s not true’s came forth.

“No, it is,” Jisung pressed. “I- I never knew how to fit in with people – I’ve never felt like I belonged in a group before.”

As a young kid, he’d been too caught up trying to figure out how other kids wanted him to act after he’d been made fun of for being weird one too many times. Then, after everything, he found it hard to relate to the kids around him who hadn’t been through the kinds of things he had. His parents moved him out of the country to escape the public shame, enrolled him in a local school, and had to pull him back out before the year was even up because he simply wasn’t adapting.

Then, he was homeschooled and only interacted with kids from his church, but despite the presence of a group, he always felt like he was just at the periphery, forcing his way into otherwise natural interactions. Trainees came and went too fast, and he never would have dreamed he’d have found a group as patient, understanding, and supportive as this one by his side.

He blamed his lack of close friends for pretty much everything, truthfully. For perpetuating a cycle of loneliness. All the way back to the beginning. When his parents would go out of town – work trips, date nights, whatever – and his brother would get to go have a sleepover at his best friend’s while Jisung didn’t have anyone to take him in. No one close enough for sleepovers. His parents would send him to stay with his father’s brother instead, all alone. Time after time.

Now having seven friends who he considered family – not to mention his soulmate within that group – meant more to him than he would ever be able to express. Going from having no one his age to rely on to having multiple guys who would do anything for him… Who had done everything for him… “It’s just a lot sometimes. I love y- I can’t even put it into words. Thank you guys.”

Chan had finally located an untouched napkin, coming around behind him to help wipe his face while Minho pulled him into a proper side-hug. It was a flurry of words and limbs from there, but Jisung was sure he felt Changbin’s strong arms almost choking him at one point.

“I love you,” he whispered one last time.

Minho’s response rumbled through his chest, calming him even more. “We know, baby. I know.”

He was sure they did. They knew him so well.

“What do you say to one more round, Ji?” Hyunjin cheered.

He laughed wetly, wiping his cheeks with his hands. “Fuck off.”

Notes:

The end! No more from this story~ Hope you enjoyed the ramblings :)

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Notes:

Thanks for reading <3

If you like Han angst, I have another ongoing chaptered fic you can check out~ updates are very slow but certain.