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It was one of those days. Jisoo never really knows how to help Jeonghan whenever he comes back from his evaluations and doesn’t get a glittering review. It’s usually worse when he goes right after Seungkwan or Seokmin. But this time it’s different. They’re preparing for their debut, and everyone’s on high alert, pushing the members harder than ever, and Jeonghan seems to get the worst of it.
He’s upset. Jisoo can hear it in the way the cutlery clangs harder in the sink that it usually does, in the way Jeonghan avoids everyone, especially the ones who usually do well during vocal evaluations, namely Jihoon, Seungcheol, Seungkwan, and Seokmin. He sighs, letting Jeonghan collect himself so he can still smile about tomorrow.
He knows the elder has insecurities, despite being so damn near perfect. He’s told Jisoo about them before, over ramyun at 4am, in the park on their (rare) off days, and even during their break times when they’re sprawled across the floor, exhausted from preparing LIKE SEVENTEEN.
His voice.
His laugh.
His words.
His looks.
His singing.
The last one, he worries about the most, and Jisoo can read his best friend (and -coughs- boyfriend -coughs-) like an open book. His shoulders tense up with every note he sings wrong, the light in his eyes dims a little when his voice thins out, or when he has to pitch down so he can transition without his voice cracking.
Jisoo’s so deep in thought he almost misses Jeonghan flopping onto him in their shared room. Jisoo wriggles away, moving so Jeonghan can lie on his shoulder comfortably, and laces their fingers together.
He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. He just tightens his fingers around Jeonghan’s long slender (Jeonghan insists they’re bony) fingers, and he melts into Jisoo’s shoulder.
“I hate hearing myself sing,” Jeonghan murmurs softly, face buried in his pillow (aka Jisoo’s shoulder). “I sound all nasal and awful,” he mumbles, sniffling, and Jisoo’s thumb strokes the top of Jeonghan’s hand gently, a soft, soothing gesture.
“Talk to me,” Jisoo nudges, voice smooth and coaxing, and Jeonghan sighs heavily, letting the small, simple touch comfort him.
“Your voice. I want it. It’s all smooth and nice, and yeah your vocal range isn’t as wide as Seokmin but at least you don’t sound like me. You’re bilingual and play the guitar and the fans love it. Everyone has something special going for them, and I’m just… me.” Jeonghan mumbles, voice trailing off to barely a whisper, shutting his eyes and letting the soft, stroking sensation of Jisoo’s rough, calloused thumb calm him.
“You’re not just you,” Jisoo murmurs, gripping Jeonghan’s hand tighter. “Your voice is unique. Anyone listening to our songs will be able to tell when you’re singing. When Jihoon’s singing in a lower pitch we sound identical. So what if I’m bilingual? I can barely read korean, let alone translate,” he shrugs, and Jeonghan hums noncommittally, but it’s slightly a less distraught sound than when he first flopped into bed.
“It’s just- I don’t want to be the weakest link,” Jeonghan croaks, and Jisoo pulls away to see tears pooling in the beautiful boy’s eyes. Jisoo just shushes Jeonghan and pulls him close, hugging him tight, hands still laced together. “Jisoo…. We’re debuting next week, and I’ve got nothing to show for it except a pretty face and long hair,” pulling Jisoo closer with their linked hands.
“Yoon Jeonghan you listen to me,” Jisoo sits up, holding their hands tightly together. “You’re more than just a pretty face. You’re funny, caring, witty, and you work so, so hard, even if none of our fans see it. I know it, but most importantly you know it,” he cups Jeonghan’s cheek gently.
“The boys are our family, and soon our fans will be too. They’ll love you for all the silly stunts you pull, your snarkiness, how you mom the fuck out of everyone and then sleep in a random corner,” Jisoo chuckles lightly, and the corners of Jeonghan’s lips lift gratefully.
“Together, always?” Jeonghan whimpers, looking at their tightly clasped hands.
Jisoo smiles softly, untangling their hands and just hooking their pinkies together so their rings clink.
“Always.”