Let yourself fall (we'll catch you)

by orphan_account

Summary:

Jiwoong struggles to feel properly as he thinks he's supposed to. On top of hiding his neuro Divergent tendencies which is taking a toll on him.

His team helps .

Notes:

So I read some fics with leader jiwoong and I'm was on periods so mental issues and divergence spectrum were what's running on my mind while writing this.

 

Kim Jiwoong had always been one to carry the weight of responsibility quietly. It was just part of who he was, molded by years of hard work and personal struggles. After being chosen as a member of Zerobaseone, Jiwoong found himself stepping into an even bigger role than he’d anticipated. He wasn’t just a teammate—he was now a mentor, a role model, a leader that everyone else looked up to. Each of the members was talented and driven, but they were also young, and most were still finding their footing. They looked to him as their anchor.

And he was willing to be that for them.

However, there was a part of Jiwoong that he kept hidden, a part that he didn’t think anyone would understand, his neuro Divergent tendencies. It was something he’d learned to control over time, to mask in subtle ways, but on harder days, the numbness and desperation would bubble to the surface and become intrusive. For years, he’d gotten by with small, unnoticed gestures—tensing his hand, clenching his jaw, textures, touching—but the stress of rigorous training and the pressure to be a perfect leader only made things harder. 

He’d let Sung Hanbin in on it after noticing Hanbin’s intuition. Hanbin had approached him one night, noticing the signs, and Jiwoong had found comfort in his understanding. But he wasn’t sure if he could reveal this to the others. Jiwoong wanted to be their strong leader, not someone they had to worry about.

---

Tonight, after a grueling practice session, the team was more exhausted than usual. The choreography they’d been working on was complex and required relentless precision. As the others packed up, Jiwoong lingered behind, sitting alone in the dimly lit practice room. It was his way of unwinding—giving himself a few minutes in the quiet before returning to the dorms.

He closed his eyes, steadying his breathing. But the peace didn’t last long. The slobbering feeling of being underwater with weights attached crept up on him, small jerks in his shoulder and hand, began to surface as if to show a struggle to get to the surface. To breathe.

Normally, he’d keep them at bay, but in the solitude, he allowed them to run their course. He felt a mix of relief and frustration, these moments were freeing, but they were also a reminder of the hidden struggle he couldn’t escape.

The door creaked open suddenly, startling him. Jiwoong looked up to see Hanbin standing there, watching him with a mix of concern and understanding.

“Hey, hyung, I didn’t know you were still here,” Hanbin said softly, entering the room and closing the door behind him. “Everything okay?”

Jiwoong nodded, a small, practiced smile forming on his lips. “Yeah, just… cooling down. Long day.”

Hanbin took a seat beside him, offering a supportive look. “You know you don’t have to hide it, right?”

Jiwoong sighed, feeling a flicker of vulnerability. “I just… don’t want them to see this side of me, Hanbin. They look up to me. I want to be someone they can rely on, not someone they have to worry about.”

Hanbin’s gaze softened. “I get it. But, you know… I think they’d feel closer to you if they knew. It’s not a weakness, Jiwoong. It’s just part of you.”

There was a pause as Jiwoong considered his words. Hanbin was right—he’d always known that, deep down. But there was a part of him that feared their reaction, feared they’d see him differently.

“Maybe one day,” Jiwoong murmured, looking away. “For now… it’s just easier this way.”

---

The next morning, Jiwoong and Hanbin were the first to arrive at the studio, as usual. Jiwoong appreciated these quiet moments with Hanbin, where they could talk freely without the weight of everyone else’s expectations.

But today, as the rest of the members trickled in, Jiwoong noticed someone was missing.

“Where’s Yujin?” he asked, looking around.

“He was practicing late last night,” Taerae replied, sounding slightly worried. “I think he was frustrated with one of the routines. He kept saying he wanted to perfect it.”

Jiwoong’s expression softened. Han Yujin was the youngest in their group, just a teenager, yet he was determined and passionate to a fault. Yujin reminded Jiwoong of his younger self—fiercely dedicated, sometimes to the point of exhaustion. 

“I’ll check on him,” Jiwoong said, walking towards the small practice room Yujin often used when he needed extra time.

When he entered the room, he found Yujin in the middle of a frustrated attempt at the choreography, his movements sharp but slightly off. Yujin’s face was twisted in concentration, his eyes glassy with the remnants of sleep deprivation.

“Yujin,” Jiwoong called softly.

The younger boy stopped, startled, and turned to him, embarrassment flashing across his face. “Oh, Jiwoong-hyung, I didn’t… I was just…”

Jiwoong gave him an understanding smile. “You don’t need to explain. I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

Yujin looked down, shifting uncomfortably. “I just… I feel like I’m not good enough sometimes. Everyone else is so talented, and I’m always lagging behind…”

Jiwoong stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on Yujin’s shoulder. “Yujin, you’re doing great. No one expects you to be perfect right away. We’re all learning together. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

Yujin nodded, looking slightly reassured but still hesitant. “It’s just… you all make it look so easy, hyung.”

Jiwoong chuckled softly, his voice filled with a warmth that put Yujin at ease. “It’s not as easy as it looks, trust me. I just hide it well.”

Yujin’s eyes widened slightly, his gaze searching. “Really? But… you’re so calm and steady all the time.”

Jiwoong hesitated, the urge to share a bit of his struggle surfacing. But he held back. Instead, he squeezed Yujin’s shoulder gently. “Everyone has things they deal with, Yujin. You’re not alone in this.”

The young boy looked up at him, a small smile breaking through his exhaustion. “Thanks, Jiwoong-hyung. I’ll… I’ll try to remember that.”

---

As the day went on, Jiwoong felt a new determination. If he couldn’t reveal his own struggles yet, he could still make sure his teammates felt supported. He’d watched each of them closely, learning their strengths, their insecurities, and their unique personalities. He knew how hard Matthew worked, even though he rarely talked about it. He’d seen Gyuvin’s quiet efforts to improve, even if Gyuvin acted like he didn’t care. And he noticed the way Taerae cheered everyone up, keeping morale high no matter how tough things got.

These weren’t just his teammates—they were his family.

And as their leader, Jiwoong resolved to protect and support them, in whatever way he could, even if it meant to keep his own issues subdued.

 

---

 

As the morning practice session continued, Jiwoong felt a renewed sense of purpose. His talk with Yujin had reminded him that sometimes, small gestures made a big difference. Being the strong, dependable leader everyone needed didn’t mean he had to carry everything alone,it just meant showing up for them, understanding them, and building a space where they felt safe to grow.

 

After a short break, Jiwoong noticed Taerae approaching him, carrying two bottles of water. Taerae had a knack for sensing when someone needed something—even something as simple as hydration after a tough routine.

 

“Hyung,” Taerae said with a grin, holding out a bottle. “Thought you might need this.”

 

Jiwoong chuckled, accepting the bottle gratefully. “Thanks, Taerae. You always seem to know when I need a break.”

 

Taerae shrugged, looking slightly shy. “Well, you always take care of us, so it’s only fair.”

 

It was a small gesture, but Jiwoong felt his chest warm with appreciation. Taerae’s quiet kindness didn’t go unnoticed, he was like the group’s morale booster, always cheering everyone up, even when the days grew long and the routines exhausting. Jiwoong was grateful to have him around, both for his unwavering positivity and his natural understanding.

 

“Taerae, you know… I don’t think I’ve ever properly thanked you,” Jiwoong said, his tone sincere. “You’re always looking out for everyone.”

 

Taerae’s cheeks flushed slightly, but he shrugged it off with a smile. “I just do what I can. We’re a team, right?”

 

Jiwoong nodded, feeling a sense of pride swell within him. *Yes*, he thought. *We really are becoming a team.*

 

---

 

Later that day, Jiwoong found himself paired with Matthew for unit practice session. Matthew was focused, serious as ever, and Jiwoong admired his determination. Matthew rarely asked for help, preferring to work through things on his own. But Jiwoong could see how hard he pushed himself, always striving to improve, to be the best version of himself.

 

As they worked on a particularly intricate series of moves, Jiwoong noticed a small frown forming on Matthew’s face. It was subtle, but Jiwoong knew Matthew well enough to recognize his signs of frustration.

 

“You okay?” Jiwoong asked, placing a reassuring hand on Matthew’s shoulder.

 

Matthew hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, just… this move is harder than it looks. I feel like I keep messing it up.”

 

Jiwoong smiled, his tone encouraging. “You’re doing great, Matthew. It’s a tough routine, but you’re making progress. Just take it one step at a time.”

 

Matthew looked up, a hint of relief in his eyes. “Thanks, Jiwoong. Sometimes it’s hard to see the progress when you’re in the middle of it.”

 

Jiwoong nodded, giving his shoulder a supportive squeeze. “I get it. But you’re doing amazing. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

 

For a brief moment, they shared a quiet understanding. Jiwoong could see the weight Matthew carried—the desire to succeed, to prove himself worthy of being part of Zerobaseone. And as they resumed practice, Jiwoong silently promised himself that he’d continue to be there for Matthew, just as Matthew was always there for the rest of the team.

 

---

 

As the week went on, Jiwoong found himself growing more and more closer to each of the members, while observing them as well. With Gyuvin, he rediscovered a surprising sense of humor and a shared love for late-night snacks, often finding themselves sneaking off to grab a quick bite after grueling practice sessions. Gyuvin was laid-back on the surface, but Jiwoong could tell he was passionate and worked hard, even if he tried to play it cool.

 

And then there was Gunwook. He was strong, dependable, and often took on the role of protector for the younger members, especially Yujin. Jiwoong admired his quiet leadership and made a point to acknowledge it whenever he could. Gunwook was a natural at taking care of others, but Jiwoong wanted to remind him that it was okay to lean on the team, too.

 

There was Hao, his closest confidant for all things related to feelings. He was the one who provided emotional stability to the team and made sure that one went to bed angry or sad. His weekly group discussion for feelings were probably what had made the team closer.

 

And of course there was Ricky. Handsome Ricky. Jiwoong would never admit to himself that he had feelings for the young man, which were too shameful to be called as being familial. He knew Ricky was attractive but he couldn't bring himself to accept the fact. The guy was sever years younger! But, those feelings are things to draw upon way later.

 

With every day, Jiwoong’s protective instinct for his teammates grew. They weren’t just a group of performers, they were a family, bound not by blood but by the shared dream they were all working tirelessly to achieve.

 

---

 

One evening, after a particularly exhausting practice, Jiwoong returned to the dorms only to find Hanbin waiting for him in the hallway.

 

“Jiwoong hyung, can we talk?” Hanbin’s voice was soft, but there was a seriousness in his eyes.

 

Jiwoong nodded, sensing the importance of the moment. They walked to Jiwoong’s room, and once inside, Hanbin hesitated, as if searching for the right words.

 

“Hyung, I’ve noticed… You’ve been putting a lot of pressure on yourself lately. I know you want to be the strong one for everyone, but… I just want you to know it’s okay to let us be there for you, too.”

 

Jiwoong looked down, a slight pang in his chest. He’d always tried to be strong, to keep his struggles hidden so they wouldn’t burden anyone else. But Hanbin’s words stirred something within him—a reminder that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to carry everything alone.

 

“Hanbin-ah,” Jiwoong started, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… hard, sometimes. I don’t want anyone to see me as weak.”

 

Hanbin’s gaze softened, his hand resting on Jiwoong’s shoulder. “You’re not weak, hyungie. If anything, letting us see the real you would only make us respect you more. You don’t have to pretend to be perfect.”

 

Jiwoong felt a lump in his throat, his defenses slowly crumbling. For so long, he’d tried to keep everything together, to be the strong, dependable leader everyone needed. But Hanbin’s words reminded him that vulnerability wasn’t a weakness—it was part of being human.

 

Taking a deep breath, Jiwoong let down his guard, if only for a moment. “Thanks, Hanbin. I… I’ll try to remember that.”

 

Hanbin smiled, giving him a reassuring nod. “We’re here for you, hyungie. All of us. You’re not alone in this.”

 

---

 

The dorm was quiet in the early morning, only broken by the soft rustle of Jiwoong as he prepared a cup of coffee in the small kitchen. He hadn’t slept much, thoughts circling his mind about his team, about the weight he carried as their leader. Hanbin’s words lingered with him, a reminder that maybe he didn’t have to hide everything.

 

But habits were hard to break.

 

“Hyung, you’re up early.”

 

Jiwoong turned to see Yujin, bleary-eyed and yawning, stumbling into the kitchen. Jiwoong couldn’t help but smile—Yujin looked like he’d walked straight out of a cartoon, his hair sticking up at odd angles.

 

“Couldn’t sleep,” Jiwoong admitted, handing Yujin a glass of water. “What about you?”

 

Yujin shrugged, taking a sip. “Just… thinking about practice. I want to get better, faster.”

 

Jiwoong’s heart ached at the younger boy’s determination. He knew the feeling too well—the desire to push oneself, to meet expectations, even if it meant carrying a heavy burden. But Yujin didn’t need to feel that weight alone.

 

“You’re doing great, Yujin,” Jiwoong said softly. “It’s okay to take things slow. You’re already improving every day.”

 

Yujin nodded, but Jiwoong could tell that the words hadn’t fully eased his worries. Yet, he didn’t push further; sometimes, the quiet reassurances were all they could offer one another. In that silence, Jiwoong realized that perhaps he wasn’t as alone as he’d thought. They were all growing, all struggling in their own ways, and maybe that was enough—to simply know they weren’t alone in the journey.

 

---

 

Later that day, practice resumed in full swing, with their trainer pushing them hard. The routines were complex, testing each member’s endurance and focus. Jiwoong noticed Gunwook stepping in whenever Yujin seemed to falter, offering a quiet word of encouragement or helping him correct his posture. Gunwook’s silent but steady support touched Jiwoong—it reminded him that he wasn’t the only one looking out for the team.

 

Between routines, Jiwoong found himself next to Hao, who was busy reviewing the steps with intense concentration. Hao had a habit of muttering to himself, going over every detail until it was perfect.

 

“Hao,” Jiwoong said, nudging him gently. “You’re too hard on yourself. You’ve got this, trust me.”

 

Hao looked up, a sheepish smile crossing his face. “Thanks, hyung. I just… I want to get it right.”

 

“You will,” Jiwoong replied with conviction. “Just trust yourself. And don’t be afraid to ask for help.”

 

Hao nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing. Jiwoong was starting to see how each of them held themselves to impossibly high standards—how each member was learning to lean on one another, bit by bit. Jiwoong felt a surge of pride, knowing that their bond was becoming stronger with each passing day.

 

---

 

That evening, the group decided to wind down with a movie night in the dorm, piling onto the couches and pulling out blankets. It was a rare moment of relaxation, a break from the relentless pace of training. Ricky, Gyuvin and Taerae debated over the movie choice, with Gunwook chiming in, while Matthew, Hao and Hanbin prepared snacks in the kitchen. Yujin and Taerae seemed to be busy preparing the group fluffy pajamas. Or maybe plotting world domination, Jiwoong couldn't say with their constant hush whispers in each other's ear and small giggles. When in any case, Jiwoong would help them without questions.

 

As the movie began, Jiwoong found himself wedged between Hanbin and Yujin, their laughter filling the room as they settled in. Jiwoong felt a sense of contentment wash over him. Here, amidst the easy camaraderie, he could let go—just a little—and be part of the group, not just their leader.

 

At one point during the movie, Jiwoong felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Hanbin looking at him with a knowing smile, a silent reassurance in his gaze.

 

“You doing okay?” Hanbin whispered, his voice barely audible over the movie.

 

Jiwoong nodded, giving him a grateful smile. It was a small gesture, but Hanbin’s presence was like an anchor, grounding him in the moment. For the first time in a while, Jiwoong allowed himself to relax completely, knowing that he was surrounded by people who genuinely cared for him.

 

-----

As the days passed, Jiwoong continued to notice small moments where the team came together, looking out for one another in ways they might not have a few weeks ago. They were no longer just individuals working toward a shared goal—they were becoming a family.

 

One afternoon, Jiwoong found himself alone in the practice room, going over the choreography on his own. His movements were fluid, each step a seamless transition into the next, but he could feel the strain creeping into his muscles. The numbness creating a sense of breathlessness which had been persistent that day, a reminder of the pressures he was trying to keep hidden.

 

He paused, taking a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He didn’t notice someone else enter the room.

 

“Hyung?”

 

Jiwoong turned to see Ricky watching him, concern etched on his face.

 

“Are you… alright?” Ricky asked, his voice gentle.

 

Jiwoong hesitated, the urge to brush it off surfacing. But then he saw the genuine worry in Ricky's eyes, and something within him softened.

 

“Just… a bit tired,” Jiwoong admitted, his voice quieter than usual. “It’s been a long day.”

 

Ricky nodded, stepping closer. “You know, you don’t have to carry everything alone. We’re here for you too, hyung.”

 

Jiwoong felt a lump form in his throat, the sincerity of Ricky's words hitting him harder than he expected. For so long, he’d tried to be the strong one, the dependable leader they could all rely on. But in this moment, he realized that maybe it was okay to let himself lean on them, just a little.

 

“Thank you, Ricky-ah,” Jiwoong said softly, a small but genuine smile forming on his lips. “I’ll try to remember that.”

 

---

 

Later, during their evening meal, Jiwoong noticed the way the team naturally gravitated toward one another. Hanbin was encouraging Ricky and Yujin, reminding him to pace himself, while Matthew and Gunwook discussed ways to improve their vocas together with Hao. Taerae and Gyuvin, as usual, kept everyone laughing with their jokes, filling the room with a lighthearted energy.

 

Jiwoong watched them all, a deep sense of gratitude welling up inside him. He didn’t have to carry everything alone—he had a family here, a team that would stand by him no matter what.

 

As the meal wrapped up, Hanbin raised a glass of water, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “To Jiwoong-hyung, the best leader we could ask for.”

 

The others chimed in, their voices filled with admiration and affection. Jiwoong felt his cheeks heat up, caught off guard by the sudden praise.

 

“You guys,” he said, laughing softly. “I don’t know what I did to deserve all of you.”

 

“Just being you is enough, hyung,” Gunwook replied, a warm smile on his face. “You’ve done so much for us. Let us take care of you too.”

 

Jiwoong felt his chest tighten, overwhelmed by their kindness. In that moment, he knew he’d found something special—a team, a family, a place where he truly belonged.

 

---

 

It had been a few weeks since Jiwoong’s quiet, unspoken promise to let his team in, little by little. Despite his reservations, he found himself opening up in small ways—taking moments to lean on them, listening to their encouragement, and learning to share some of his own struggles without feeling like he was burdening them. 

 

On a particularly stormy evening, the group was gathered in the practice room, working through a new choreography. The power flickered every so often, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Their trainer had left them to practice on their own, trusting them to make use of the time. 

 

Jiwoong called for a break, noticing how the relentless hours were wearing everyone down. They collapsed onto the floor, each of them letting out tired groans and giggles as they sprawled across the room.

 

“Hyung, I’m starving,” Gyuvin whined, lying flat on his back. 

 

Jiwoong chuckled, reaching into his bag and pulling out a few snacks he’d packed as a precaution. “Here, these should keep you alive until we get back to the dorms.” 

 

Gyuvin lit up and dove in, sharing the snacks with Taerae and Yujin, who looked equally grateful. Jiwoong leaned back against the mirror, watching them with quiet fondness. 

 

Hanbin slid down next to him, nudging his shoulder. “You’ve been doing better, hyung. I can tell you’re letting yourself relax around us.”

 

Jiwoong nodded, a small smile on his face. “It’s strange, but… it feels good. I always thought I had to keep everything together for everyone else, but I’ve realized that you’re all so much stronger than I gave you credit for.”

 

Hanbin gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “We’re in this together, Jiwoong. We all rely on each other.”

 

Their conversation was interrupted by Yujin, who had gotten up to practice a move by himself, clearly frustrated. He stumbled slightly, losing his footing, and let out a frustrated sigh. Jiwoong was by his side in seconds, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. 

 

“Yujin, you’re doing fine. Let’s go over it together, step-by-step.” 

 

The younger boy nodded, a hint of embarrassment in his eyes, but Jiwoong gave him a warm smile, guiding him through the move. He could feel the weight of his responsibility in moments like these—the way he was looked up to, depended on. But now, rather than feeling like a burden, it felt like a shared experience, something that strengthened them all. 

 

After a few minutes, Yujin managed to get the move right, and a grin broke out on his face. Jiwoong clapped him on the back, pride in his eyes. “See? I knew you could do it.” 

 

Yujin beamed, a renewed confidence in his gaze. 

 

-----

 

As practice wrapped up and they made their way back to the dorms, the storm outside grew heavier. Rain pounded against the windows, and the occasional flash of lightning lit up the darkened streets. Inside, the team settled into their familiar routine, changing into comfortable clothes and gathering in the common room.

 

Tonight, Jiwoong could feel a sense of calm settle over him. He noticed how Gunwook helped Taerae dry his hair, how Matthew and Gyuvin shared a quiet conversation on the couch, laughing softly. 

 

“Jiwoong-hyung,” Gunwook said, turning to him with a smile. “Come join us. We were about to start a game.” 

 

Jiwoong raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What kind of game?” 

 

“Truth or Dare,” Gyuvin announced with a grin, his eyes gleaming with excitement. 

 

“Sounds like trouble,” Jiwoong chuckled, but he found himself settling down with them anyway. 

 

They took turns, laughter filling the room as dares and silly questions made their way around. Jiwoong’s heart felt light, watching his team let loose, their laughter blending together like a symphony. 

 

The truth-or-dare game was in full swing, with everyone sprawled across the floor, laughter filling the room after each ridiculous dare or embarrassingly honest confession. Jiwoong was sitting cross-legged near the center, a soft smile on his face as he watched the others. Every so often, his gaze drifted to Ricky, who was sitting across from him, trying hard to act relaxed even though he seemed unusually tense.

 

It was Ricky's turn. Yujin, who had been giving everyone the hardest dares or truths all night, looked at him with a devious grin.

 

"Alright, Ricky hyung," Yujin said, a little too pleased. "Truth or dare?"

 

Ricky hesitated, his usual calm composure wavering as he shifted his gaze to Jiwoong, who raised an eyebrow in amusement. Jiwoong noticed that Ricky’s face had the faintest tinge of red, which was unusual for the normally self-assured boy. 

 

“Truth,” Ricky finally answered, seeming cautious.

 

Yujin’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Alright, here’s a good one. Do you… have a crush on anyone in this room?”

 

The room fell silent, and everyone leaned forward, eyes wide with anticipation. Jiwoong could feel his heart pound a little faster, his gaze flicking to Ricky, who was visibly flustered. Ricky’s cheeks flushed even deeper, and his hand shot up, waving away the question.

 

“Actually… change to dare!” he blurted out quickly, trying to compose himself as his eyes darted anywhere but Jiwoong.

 

“Ohhh, he chickened out!” Gyuvin teased, laughing. But Yujin was clearly ready for this.

 

“Alright, hyung. If you want a dare instead…” He paused, a mischievous smirk forming. “Then I dare you to tell us who you like.”

 

Ricky’s face went completely red, and he sat up straighter, looking like he’d just been put on the spot of his life. His eyes briefly met Jiwoong’s, who was watching him with a mixture of curiosity and something else—something soft and unreadable. Jiwoong’s cheeks were a faint pink as well, though he tried to keep a composed expression.

 

Ricky cleared his throat. “I… can’t do that,” he mumbled, averting his gaze, and then quickly rubbed the back of his neck, the embarrassment clear on his face.

 

The room erupted into laughter and playful groans of disappointment. Taerae nudged him teasingly. “Come on, Ricky! You’re supposed to do the dare!”

 

“I know! I just—” Ricky stammered, clearly out of his element. He glanced at Jiwoong once again, catching the older boy’s eyes. Jiwoong’s expression was soft, maybe even a little shy, and Ricky quickly looked away, his face going impossibly red.

 

Jiwoong couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips as he watched Ricky struggle. There was something endearing about seeing Ricky, usually so composed, looking so flustered. 

 

“Alright, alright, let’s give him a break,” Jiwoong finally said, coming to Ricky’s rescue, though his own cheeks felt warm. “Not everyone has to spill all their secrets tonight.”

 

The group groaned but relented, switching to another victim for their game. But even as they moved on, Jiwoong felt Ricky’s gaze on him, and when he looked over, he saw that Ricky was still blushing, his eyes flickering away the moment they made contact.

 

And for the rest of the night, neither of them could quite shake the warmth spreading in their chests.

 

When it was Jiwoong’s turn, Gyuvin eyed him with a mischievous glint. “Jiwoong-hyung, truth or dare?” 

 

“Truth,” Jiwoong said, wary but curious. 

 

Gyuvin thought for a moment, then smirked. “What’s been the hardest part about being our leader?”

 

The room fell silent, everyone’s attention now on Jiwoong. He felt a warmth rise to his cheeks, realizing that they genuinely wanted to know. Taking a deep breath, he decided to answer honestly. 

 

“The hardest part… is probably letting myself admit when I’m struggling,” Jiwoong said slowly. “I always want to be strong for you all, to protect you and make sure everything goes smoothly. But sometimes, that means I end up keeping things to myself.” 

 

He glanced around the room, meeting each of their gazes. “But I’ve been learning. You’ve all shown me that it’s okay to lean on others, that I don’t have to do everything alone. So… thank you.” 

 

His confession hung in the air, and he could see the understanding in their eyes. Yujin reached over, giving Jiwoong’s hand a squeeze, while Taerae and Hanbin exchanged a quiet smile. Ricky looked at him like Jiwoong has hung the stars in the sky while Hao looked teary eyed like a mother watching her baby take their first steps. 

 

“We’re always here for you, hyung,” Hanbin said softly. “You don’t have to carry everything alone. That’s what family is for.”

 

---

 

As the night went on, they eventually drifted into comfortable silence, everyone settling into their own thoughts. Jiwoong looked around at his team, his friends, his family. In the quiet glow of the dorm lights, with the rain pattering against the windows, he felt a deep sense of peace.

 

He knew that the road ahead would still be filled with challenges, that there would be days when he’d struggle to keep up, when the weight of leadership would feel heavy once again. But now, he had something more—he had a team who would stand by him, who would share the burdens and celebrate the victories together. 

 

And for Jiwoong, that was enough.

 

-------

 

The dorm was quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak as the building settled. Most of the team was already fast asleep, worn out from another day of grueling practice. But somewhere in the night, Gyuvin and Gunwook stirred, both of them craving a late-night snack.

 

“Let’s sneak out,” Gyuvin whispered, nudging Gunwook as they tiptoed out of the bedroom. They made it to the kitchen, still half-asleep, when they noticed something out of place.

 

The porch door was slightly ajar, a faint sliver of moonlight spilling through. Gyuvin frowned, gesturing to Gunwook. Together, they stepped outside, curious to see what—or who—they might find.

 

There, sitting on the porch steps with his legs stretched out and his eyes fixed on the sky, was Jiwoong. He looked peaceful, his features soft in the gentle glow of the stars above.

 

“Hyung?” Gunwook called out softly.

 

Jiwoong turned, a small smile tugging at his lips when he saw them. “Couldn’t sleep?”

 

“Nah, just got hungry,” Gyuvin admitted with a sheepish grin, settling beside Jiwoong on the step. Gunwook followed, taking a seat on Jiwoong’s other side. They sat in silence for a few moments, each of them staring up at the stars.

 

“It’s… really nice out here,” Gyuvin murmured. “Didn’t think you’d be up, though, hyung.”

 

Jiwoong nodded, a faint wistfulness in his expression. “Sometimes I come out here when I can’t sleep. It helps clear my head.”

 

They fell quiet again, the cool night air brushing against their skin. There was a weight in the silence, a calmness that brought an unexpected sense of comfort. Jiwoong finally broke it, his voice soft.

 

“Do you guys… ever feel scared?” he asked, his gaze still fixed on the stars. “Of everything that’s ahead of us?”

 

Gunwook exchanged a glance with Gyuvin, the question surprising them. Jiwoong always seemed so steady, so sure. But now, he looked almost vulnerable, as if he were laying a piece of himself bare to them.

 

“Yeah, sometimes,” Gunwook admitted. “I mean, it’s a lot to take in, all the expectations, all the… unknowns. But I feel better knowing we’re all in it together.”

 

Gyuvin nodded. “Exactly. Like, even if things get tough, we have each other, you know? And honestly, having you around helps a lot too, hyung.”

 

Jiwoong smiled at that, a small but genuine smile that reached his eyes. “I guess… I just worry. I want to be someone you can rely on, someone who makes things easier.”

 

“You already are, Jiwoong-hyung,” Gyuvin said, his tone serious. “We look up to you because you’re real with us. And you don’t have to be perfect to be someone we rely on. Just being here with us is enough.”

 

Gunwook nodded in agreement, his gaze earnest. “Yeah, and like you always say—you don’t have to do it alone. We’re here for you too, hyung.”

 

For a long moment, Jiwoong didn’t say anything. He just looked at them, gratitude clear in his eyes. “Thank you, really,” he whispered, his voice almost lost in the night.

 

After a while, Gyuvin stood up, rubbing his stomach. “Now, about that snack…” Jiwoong couldn't help the laugh that slipped out of his lips quietly. 

 

"Alright,” he said, standing up, because he didn't know what they thought ramen was going to be made by, when they couldn't even boil water properly.“Let’s get that snack you two came for.”

 

They snuck back into the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards until they found some ramen packets. Gunwook quickly set a pot on the stove, while Gyuvin grabbed bowls and chopsticks. Jiwoong took out some produce from the refrigerator to feed his little ducklings a good late night snack.

 

Within minutes, the three of them were huddled around the kitchen island, Jiwoong silently listening to his teammates talking about nonsense or encyclopedic facts that he for all his life couldn't understand why Gunwook knew, while slurping noodles and whispering excitedly about the members. Gossiping, would be the correct word. But it wasn't like Jiwoong wasn't interested. He was a nosy man and the leader, he needed to know. 

 

Just as they were finishing up, Hao appeared in the doorway, his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. He eyed the empty ramen packets and the guilty expressions on their faces.

 

“Really?” he scolded, trying to suppress a smile. “Do you three have any idea how late it is?”

 

Gyuvin gave Hao a sheepish grin. “We were… bonding.”

 

Hao rolled his eyes but softened, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Next time, save some for me, alright?”

 

The four of them shared a quiet laugh, and Jiwoong felt a surge of contentment, knowing that they were all in this together.