Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was three in the morning, hours after the rest of the group had returned to the dorms, and Jisung was struggling. 

He had been playing the track on loop for who knows how many hours, yet every lyric that he had managed to scribble down was immediately balled up and thrown into the already overflowing trash bin. He couldn’t help but release a long, dejected groan.

Changbin, who had been sitting on the opposite side of the couch, looked up. Familiar dark rings lined the bottom of his lids, but his lips quirked in a sympathetic smirk.

“Tired already, Sungie?” Changbin teased, reaching over in an attempt to pinch the younger’s cheek.

Unbothered, Jisung collapsed onto the desk, his grumbling muffled by the many sheafs of paper sprawled on its surface.

“No…” he mumbled, after sulking for what he deemed to be an appropriate amount of time, with a pout. “But words! Aren’t! Working!”

“Aw, baby Sungie~” the older boy cooed, and then ruffled Jisung’s mop of hair with something akin to glee.

Jisung flailed in weak protest, though to no avail. Changbin can be very stubborn, if he wants to be. Instead, Jisung turned to focus his attention on the other presence in the studio.

“Channie hyung,” Jisung whined, knowing the Australian’s headphones were not as soundproof as they appear. “Annoying hyung is being annoying!”

“Hey!” The hyung in question scowled, retracting his hand. “Don’t be mean.”

Jisung just stuck out his tongue cheekily in response.

“Hm…”

The light hum caught the attention of the two squabbling boys, who turned towards the eldest in sync. Chan was looking back on the two of them, and when their eyes met, he threw them a sheepish, apologetic smile.

“It is about time we take a little break, yeah?”

At these words, Jisung whooped, throwing the scattered papers into the air, much to Changbin’s chagrin.

“Dude! I just organized those. Not cool.”

Naturally, Jisung ignored him.

Changbin made a face, but stood up, nonetheless.

“I can get us some coffee?”

Chan hummed in agreement, sending him a tired smile. “Thanks Bin, that’d be great.”

“Yay~ Useless hyung is finally being useful!” Jisung said, then grinned at Changbin’s affronted expression. It really was too easy—and too fun—to rile Changbin up.

“I’m getting you the blackest coffee that the vending machine serves.” 

Jisung scrambled up at this, and waved his hands frantically, as if he could bat away the threat. “No! I love you, hyung, you can’t do this to me, I’m your favorite dongsaeng in 3RACHA—” 

His words were cut short as Changbin walked out swiftly, flat out ignoring the younger’s pleas.

Jisung pouted, but he finally fell silent. Instead, he propped his elbow onto the desk, and watched quietly as Chan clicked and tapped away at his laptop, a slight frown pinching his face, his eyes narrowed. His lips, too, were doing that thing they did when Chan was in deep concentration mode, jutting out into a plush pout.

Jisung didn’t know why—perhaps it was the late hour, or his exhaustion, or the fact that he was so utterly bored and had nothing better to do—but his eyes kept falling to Chan’s lips, as if they had some strange magnetic force. They were nice lips. Pretty. Tinted a pale shade of pink, bringing a subtle color to Chan’s otherwise pale face. They looked soft, if a little chapped.

Jisung wondered how they would feel pressed against his own.

“Hyungie?”

“Mhm.”

Jisung frowned a little at the noncommittal noise; he didn’t like being ignored. He waited several beats, but there was still no other response. Heaving a dramatic sigh, Jisung decided he had to take matters into his hands, and he pushed himself into a standing position, padding his way across the studio to the older boy.

Chan smelled faintly of mint and coffee and summer, a strange but familiar mixture of scents, Jisung noted as he draped himself over the blonde. He hooked his chin over the other’s shoulder, snuggling into the warmth held in the crook of Chan’s neck.

The older boy barely spared Jisung a glance.

“What’re you doing?” Jisung mumbled, a little (a lot) miffed at the lack of reaction.

“Working, Hannie.”

Jisung wrapped his arms closer. 

“But you said to take a break…”

Chan chuckled, allowing himself to be squeezed—or more accurately, perhaps, strangled—by the younger’s limbs. “Ah, but I’m not tired, Hannie, so it’s okay. Besides, we do have a deadline.”

Jisung grumbled. 

“Ugh, don’t remind me. Suddenly, I can’t hear.”

They fell back into silence for a few seconds, Jisung cuddling Chan quietly as the latter continued to mess around with the music software, but then, Jisung perked up again.

“Hey, I just got a genius idea!”

“Mm?”

“What if—get this—” Jisung grabbed Chan’s cheeks, forcing him to tear his eyes away from the monitor to face the younger. Jisung puts on his most serious expression. “What if you stop working for just~ a~ bit~ to gimme a kiss?”

Chan blinked.

“It’ll take your mind off of the deadline and other stressful, not-fun stuff, and I’m bored and want attention.” Jisung blinked back, widening his eyes innocently. “Really, it’s a win-win situation.”

There was the briefest moment of silence, but it was shattered as Chan began to laugh, full-body giggles racking his frame. Jisung looked on, utterly unamused, and waited for him to stop.

Chan wrapped his fingers around Jisung’s wrists, gently dropping them from where they have been holding Chan’s face. There was a hint of amusement in Chan’s smile as he replied, “If you wanted a kiss, you should have just asked.”

Jisung’s whine of “but I did!” was swallowed as Chan leaned forwards, and pressed a chaste kiss to the younger’s lips.

Jisung’s brain promptly short-circuited.

Much too soon, Chan pulled back, turned around, fixed his headphones—which had fallen askew—and proceeded to return to work, while Jisung stood behind him in complete and utter shock.

He was still in the same position when Changbin strolled back in a couple of minutes later, juggling three cups of coffee in his arms, complaining about the inefficiency of vending machines.

(Chan’s lips were softer than Jisung had expected.)

Chapter Text

“Thank you, STAY, we love you!”

“See you tomorrow!”

“I love you~ I miss you~”

Jisung beamed as he chimed in, raising his voice so he could be heard over the clamor of the other members. He threw flying kisses at the tablet camera, each thrust of the arm more dramatic than the last.

There was a tap on his shoulder, and Jisung looked up obligingly. Minho’s face loomed over him, wearing a mischievous grin that was only made more prominent by the fact that it was upside down.

Jisung shrieked, batting away the laughing Minho. The older boy’s face retreated, disappearing from view.

Vengefully, Jisung leaned backwards, shoving his head against Minho’s knees, forcing his thighs apart so that Jisung could rest his head against the elder.

There was surprisingly little resistance. Instead, Jisung felt long, slender fingers thread through his hair, lightly scraping against his scalp.

Soft pleasure tingled down his spine, and Jisung wriggled slightly in delight, before returning his attention to the tablet in the center of the room.

Chan was, at the moment, making his ending speech. He had switched to English, eyes crinkling into crescents as he gestured energetically, a nervous habit he’s had since their trainee days. Jisung picked up on some phrases, but he was tired and numb and he really didn’t have the capacity to think that hard, so he just nodded along pleasantly with the rest of the members.

At one point, when it felt like the right time, Jisung threw up a cheeky thumbs-up, shooting a wink into the camera for extra measure, though his mind had long drifted far away. Fanservice—it’s a part of the job.

But when Minho stopped carding his fingers through Jisung’s hair, Jisung noticed immediately. He growled—very lightly, hopefully the mic didn’t pick it up, but it didn’t really matter—and spun around to make his displeasure clear to the boy behind him.

Minho cooed at Jisung’s disgruntled expression.

“Cutie Jisungie~” he whispered, reaching out to pinch the Jisung’s cheeks.

“Hyung!” Jisung whined, trying to pull himself away.

Minho tugged him back, unrelenting, and suddenly their faces were mere centimeters apart, the tips of their noses almost touching. In this much too compromising position, Jisung could pick out each individual one of Minho’s long, thick eyelashes, could see the faint spot where his mole had been covered by make-up.

Minho smirked as a flush ran across Jisung’s cheeks. His face burned even hotter in embarrassment when Minho jerked backward so that they were a safe distance apart, then bopped Jisung on the nose with a cluck of his tongue, as if it were Jisung’s fault that the two had almost kissed.

Almost. Kissed.

Jisung felt the blush run through his entire body.

He twisted back to the front of the room, seething internally. How dare Minho try to flirt with him without any consequences whatsoever? And to not even give him anything in return?? The audacity! Absolutely. Disgraceful.

Jisung had had enough.

Chan was wrapping up his speech, and soon it was time for their ending greeting. Jisung looked straight into the camera and gave a dazzling smile, promising fans that he loved them forever, because it was true—he never made a promise without full sincerity. He sent finger heart after finger heart towards the people who must be watching on the other side of the screen, smile never faltering.

With a last burst of energy and noise and overall chaos, the live was finally ended. The eight members continued waving, even after Chan pressed the “end” button.

The moment the phone screen turned black and was handed back to their manager, however, Jisung dropped his grin and sprang into action.

“Minho hyung, how dare you!” He jumped up, pointing an accusatory finger at the dancer.

Minho froze in place at the outburst, seemingly shocked at the sudden change in atmosphere.

Jisung didn’t wait for a response, instead barreling through with his complaints.

“Your face was literally four centimeters away from mine, how do you think that makes me feel?”

Minho watched in wonder, attention rapt on the increasingly agitated Jisung, whose entire complexion had somehow turned a few shades redder as he continued spewing out all the reasons for his displeasure.

Eventually, Jisung’s rambling gradually began to lose steam, and as his voice finally petered out, Minho tugged the younger boy forward so that he fell into the dancer’s arms.

“Hey, Sungie, sorry about that.” Sheepishly, Minho rubbed little circles into the younger’s trembling shoulder. “Sorry I went too far, I won’t do that again, hm?”

A sound of protest arose from Minho’s chest.

“What?”

Jisung lifted his head, expression dead serious.

“I said, that’s not the problem.”

Minho furrowed his brows, quizzical.

“Then, what is it?”

“…why do you never actually kiss me?”

Jisung stuck his lower lip out, only semi-conscious of the many pairs of curious eyes that were on the two boys.

“Do…” Minho trailed off, somehow looking even more confused. “Do you want me to kiss you then?”

Jisung rolled his eyes.

“Yes hyung, stop being so slow.”

Minho’s mouth dropped open, then fell shut again. He blinked, long eyelashes fluttering up and down dreadfully slow, at the impatient Jisung, who had now resorted to playing with the edge of the dancer’s sleeves.

“You— I— Kiss— What?”

“I think Minho hyung is broken,” Jisung heard someone whisper in the background. Probably Jeongin. He was always fearless that way. Perks of being the maknae and thus the soft spot of every member.

Jisung ignored him.

“Hurry up and kiss me already,” he whined, tugging Minho’s sleeve impatiently.

It took another moment for Minho to organize his thoughts. But finally—finally—he began to move.

Gingerly, almost sheepishly, Minho clasped Jisung’s face between his hands, holding him like something precious. As if in a daze, Minho leaned in, meeting Jisung’s lips in a soft kiss.

Both their lips parted at the same time, and Jisung eagerly darted his tongue in to explore the inside of the other’s mouth. He hummed, contentment buzzing through his body.

Minho pulled back first. Ignoring the younger’s whine of protest, he placed a sloppy kiss on the tip of Jisung’s nose, kitten lick and all.

“Better?” he asked, with a lopsided grin.

“Mm,” Jisung smiled back blissfully.

Somewhere in the back, someone that sounded very much like Chan sighed.

(Minho tasted sweet and bright, the tang of freshly squeezed citrus.)

Chapter Text

Five, six, seven, eight.

Turn, jump, spin, crash.

Jisung tumbled into the mirrored wall, for what must have been the twelfth time.

“Fuck—” he collapsed, short curse spitting from his lips, and folded into a sweaty heap on the floor. Why couldn’t he get this right? Why was he always messing up the choreography? It wasn’t even that hard, the other members caught on quickly enough.

Frustrated, Jisung gritted his teeth, and pushed himself up again. There wasn’t enough time to waste on resting, not when the comeback date was looming close, like the swinging blade of a guillotine. Fumbling lightly with his phone, Jisung pressed “replay”, and the title track of the new album once again began to play through the speakers of the studio.

Again.

One and a half minutes in, Jisung stumbled on a move in the chorus.

From the beginning.

Almost two minutes in, his right knee nearly gave out.

Play it again.

At forty-seven seconds, he missed the beat for his entrance.

Start over.

Jisung didn’t know how many times he had gone through the same movements, only to mess up again and again at a crucial moment. He was utterly exhausted, energy completely spent. His legs felt like limp, rubbery noodles, barely able to support his body weight. Even slightly lifting his arms felt like a chore. Sweat dripped down Jisung’s face, neck, back, limbs—his shirt was soaked through. The pads of his feet were blistered, but at the same time, so numb he could barely feel them. 

And Jisung, he was close to tears.

This only proved what he had known all along: he was a colossal failure.

No. He refused this verdict. He can do better—he knows he can, he has to, because his fans believed in him, because his members trusted him, because Chan chose him. 

Jisung picked himself back up. The track was beginning to play again—Jisung had long given up on manually pressing replay every time, and had instead resorted to putting the song on loop. 

Lift, twirl, bend down, spring back up. Step, step, punch out, spin.

Not a minute had passed before Jisung threw himself onto the ground in defeat, one hand tossed over his eyes, which were beginning to burn.

All his moves were wrong. Everything was weak, slow, off-beat. If he can’t even dance the choreography well by itself, how was he supposed to rap and sing live at the same time?

Jisung panted heavily, trying to catch his breath. the sooner he recovered, the sooner he could get back to practice. He ignored the lump that had built up in the back of his throat.

At that moment, the door to the studio cracked open.

“Sung…still here?”

Jisung startled, scrambling up at the sudden noise. Turning, he saw a disgruntled Changbin standing in the doorway, one hand resting on the door handle. His black hoodie was rumpled and half-pulled over his head, obscuring parts of his face in the shadows. The disappointed, downward curve of his lips, however, were clear enough.

“Sungie, it’s two AM. You’ve been at this for, what, eight hours? Have you taken a break at all?”

Jisung glanced at the clock.

“Actually, it’s only one fifty-six,” Jisung tried, albeit half-heartedly. He stopped short at Changbin’s sharp gaze, falling silent.

“Look,” Changbin sighed after a long pause, realizing that Jisung would not be offering a better explanation, at least not any time soon. He stepped inside the studio, resigned, and gently shut the door behind him. “I understand the need to make sure everything’s perfect, Sung, but you still have to look after your own health, you know? How do you expect to perform well when you’re overexerting your body to the brink of exhaustion?”

Changbin stared expectantly at Jisung. Jisung only averted his eyes, refusing to meet the older boy’s gaze. Ears red with embarrassment, Jisung mumbled something under his breath.

“What?” Changbin stepped closer, brows knitting together in concern and confusion.

Frustration knitted though Jisung’s body, and he threw his hands into the air. “But what if I’m just not good enough?” Jisung repeated himself, slightly louder, and then flinched at the sound of his own voice reflecting off the walls of the studio.

“Sungie… what are you talking about?” Changbin shook his head, almost in disbelief. “You’re one of the most talented artists I know, and one of the most promising young artists in the entertainment industry currently. You’re barely an adult, and you’ve already accomplished what most others can only dream of. Come on, look, how many songs have you written and produced by now?”

The eyes that gazed back at Changbin were blank, uncomprehending.

“Hyung,” Jisung finally said, voice small and so, so tired. So unlike the persona of pretend bravado that he usually wore that Changbin’s heart twinged in sympathy and hurt for him. “You’ve written just as many songs, if not more. You come up with lyrics and wordplay with such ease, and here I am, just me. Chan hyung, too, not only is he in charge of writing, but he also does all the arrangements, and composing, and producing, all without complaining, and—” Jisung cut himself off, breathing rapidly. “The point is, I’m not the only songwriter in this group, but I’m the only one who has fallen into a slump, and now I can’t even come up with a single verse for a song, so what use am I, really?”

“Sungie, that’s not true,” Changbin tried to cut in. Jisung, however, was on a roll. His voice was rising in pitch, becoming increasingly agitated.

“And— and at least you guys don’t forget your own lyrics on stage! I don’t even know how that’s possible! What kind of rapper, or even any idol at all, forgets their own lyrics? It’s laughable! Hilarious!” Jisung scoffed, condescending. “Clearly not a good one. I can barely dance decently half the time either, and when I do, it’s only because Hyunjin and Minho hyung are helping me. Look at this. Look at me!”

Jisung gestured wildly at his own body.

“Everyone says I’m supposed to be an all-rounder, when really, everything about me is sub-par. Mediocre.”

Something hot and wet and salty rolled down his cheek.

“What do I even bring to this group?”

Jisung’s voice cracked open. Something raw and ugly tore its way out of his throat, desperate. wretched. Tears streamed down, half blinding him as he pawed at his face, trying but unable to stop the sobs from escaping his broken body.

“Oh Sungie, Jisungie…”

He didn’t know when or how this happened, but Changbin was now standing directly in front of Jisung, his face crumpled with too many emotions. Jisung, embarrassed at his outburst, curled away, trying to hide from the concern evident in Changbin’s expression—Jisung didn’t need Changbin’s pity, he just needed to be better, to do better.

Changbin was relentless, though, and he reached out his hands to carefully cradle Jisung’s face. Slowly, cautiously, as if afraid of hurting a wounded bird, Changbin leaned forwards, pressing his lips against the other’s cheek.

Changbin let Jisung cry freely, pouring his insecurities out into the open, completely exposed. He did not speak, only kissing the salty tracks that traced the younger’s cheeks, kissing the tears away. He caressed Jisung’s cheeks, thumbs rubbing small, gentle circles, simply holding him there.

Gradually, Jisung’s sobs subsided, and he grew still as Changbin drew him into his arms. Jisung’s eyes remained shut as he quietly relished the touch of Changbin’s soft lips.

They stayed that way for a few more moments before Changbin finally broke the tentative peace.

“You know,” he murmured into Jisung’s ear, “you’re right that there will always be someone better. But that’s true for everyone, and it doesn’t mean you’re not already an amazing and talented person. You’re brilliant in your own way.”

Changbin maneuvered Jisung’s face so that he was staring straight into the younger’s wide, watery eyes.

“It’s okay to fall into a slump, you know. It happens to all of us. To me, to hyung—even though he pretends otherwise, because he doesn’t like to worry the kids—and to our sunbaes too, I’m sure.

“Besides, I wasn’t kidding when I said you’re one of the most talented musicians I know. And your passion is almost unrivaled. We call you an all-rounder because that’s what you are, because you can do anything you set your mind to. You’re so hardworking, your rap is so lyrical, your singing voice is amazingly stable, even with those insane high notes, and your dance is gorgeous and filled with emotion. The songs you write reflect your soul. They’re masterpieces; you’re a masterpiece. So don’t go and compare yourself with other people, okay?”

Jisung blushed a rosy pink.

“Don’t compliment me too much, hyung,” he squeezed out, the tips of his ears flaming red.

Changbin smiled, and pressed a soft kiss to Jisung’s pouting lips.

“Of course I won’t,” he teased. “You better savor this moment, Hannie.”

Jisung made a face at him, unamused.

Then, Changbin’s expression fell serious again.

“You deserve to hear it, though, Sungie. That’s why I’m saying this.”

Somehow, Jisung flushed brighter, caught off guard by the burst of sincerity.

Changbin stood up, stretched, then offered his hand.

“Let’s get to bed for now, hm? It’s late, and I’m sure your body is long in need of some rest.”

Without looking the older in the eye, Jisung slipped his fingers into the outstretched hand.

“Okay.”

(Changbin tasted like the sea, saltwater clinging to his lips, mysterious, yet still so comforting.)

Chapter Text

It was a Saturday evening.

The living room exuded a cozy, familiar sense of serenity. For once, there was no schedule to prepare for, no deadlines to meet, no music to promote. Rather, the group members were left alone, finally given time to be normal people, without hundreds of thousands of fans and non-fans alike watching their every move.

A time to recover, some room to breathe before the next batch of frantic activity, though that was the last thing on anyone’s mind at the moment.

A drama—some popular show that none of the members had watched a single episode of—was playing on the television, but no one paid the actors on screen any attention. Jeongin sat in one corner with Seungmin as they attempted to piece together a puzzle that had been discovered in the dark folds of a random closet. Felix was nearby, desperately trying to beat Chan in Mario Kart on his Switch, eyes twinkling in excitement. Changbin was cheering them both on, while simultaneously stealing food from Chan, completely unabashed. Minho lay on the carpeted floor, content to watch cat videos on his phone.

Meanwhile, Jisung and Hyunjin were curled up on the couch, limbs impossibly entangled together. Hyunjin had hooked his chin over the younger’s shoulder, arms wrapped around his thin waist. Jisung tucked his smaller frame into the other, the side of his face squished against Hyunjin’s chest, synchronizing his breathing with the steady beat of the other’s heart.

Thump, thump, in. Thump, thump, out.

Moments like these were Jisung’s favorite. He loved the feeling of security and comfort of being held in a member’s arms, with no looming deadline, no stress or anxiety. Just the here and now. Jisung especially loved curling into Hyunjin’s warm body, knowing that the older boy will shift just slightly to accommodate him, so they could slot together perfectly. He loved watching Hyunjin tap away on his phone, scrolling aimlessly through his private Instagram feed, all artists and aesthetic photography. He loved it when Hyunjin’s soft breath puffed against his ear when the older saw something entertaining posted by a fan. He loved turning his head so that he would see the content sparkle in Hyunjin’s eyes, the upward quirk of his lips, the whiskered dimples that appeared when he was amused.

Jisung loved it all.

He snuggled in closer, releasing a sigh of pleasure. Out of all the members, Hyunjin was definitely the best cuddler, no competition. Jisung preened at the thought of having Hyunjin’s cuddles all to himself.

Shifting his position in Hyunjin’s lap, Jisung tilted his body so that he had a better angle of Hyunjin’s face. It really was a beautiful composition. Every feature was placed just so, each perfectly complementing the others. The best element, though, had to be Hyunjin’s lips.

They were like two soft, plush cushions, permanently settled in a pout. Hyunjin had a bad habit of biting his lips, but it stained them with a natural pink tint. As Hyunjin concentrated, his lips parted slightly, and Jisung was unable to tear his gaze off of them. They were just so, so inviting, and Jisung was never one to resist temptation.

“Hyunjinnie,” Jisung whispered.

“Hm?” Hyunjin’s eyes were still glued on his phone, flitting across the screen as it took in lines of text.

Jisung licked his own chapped lips, vaguely aware of the nervousness in the back of his head.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Hm?” There was a slight delay as Hyunjin took a moment to process the question, before his eyes traveled down to meet those of the brown-haired boy he held in his arms. Startled by the intensity of the other’s stare, a faint blush painted itself across Hyunjin’s cheeks. 

When he opened his mouth to respond, the words tripped over themselves on their way out, causing the flush to rise even higher. “Yes, I, oh— yes?”

Jisung laughed, smiling a sunshine smile. Hyunjin’s heart melted—Jisung could feel the once steady heartbeat turn erratic, for just a brief moment.

Gently, Jisung pushed himself upright, and pressed a kiss to Hyunjin’s lips.

Jisung almost let out a cry of happiness as contact was made. In fact, he couldn’t help but gasp into Hyunjin’s open mouth, prompting a soft giggle in return.

Jisung leaned into the kiss, unwilling to let go. Hyunjin’s lips were far better than he had imagined—they were soft, comparable to the wispy clouds in the sky, perhaps even cotton candy. Jisung scraped his teeth against Hyunjin’s lower lip, barely containing a moan at the heavenly sensation. Hyunjin giggled again, a gorgeous tinkling sound that made Jisung’s heart soar. He smiled into the kiss, sloppily ran his tongue over the other’s lips one last time, before pulling away, breathless.

Glancing up, Jisung was pleased to find a blissful expression resting on Hyunjin’s face. Sitting up, Jisung pressed a light, butterfly kiss to the other’s jaw, before folding himself comfortably back into Hyunjin’s embrace.

Closing his eyes, Jisung released a satisfied sigh. At the same time, he felt the body beneath him unfreeze, and Jisung almost purred as he felt long, elegant fingers glide through his mop of hair.

The two of them fell asleep in that position: Jisung atop Hyunjin, one of Hyunjin’s hands resting on Jisung’s head while Jisung curled around Hyunjin’s waist. A picture of serenity.

Only for the moment, of course. Seungmin, snickering, snapped a picture before he left the room, filing it away to save for certain blackmailing in the future.

(Kissing Hyunjin was perhaps the sweetest thing Jisung had ever experienced.)

Chapter Text

Jisung and Felix were alone in the dorms. They sat cross-legged on the rug, facing each other, separated by a long-forgotten board game. Felix was trying to explain something—Jisung wasn’t sure what exactly—but he had given up on using Korean and had, twenty minutes ago, reverted to speaking animatedly in his Australian-accented English.

Jisung knew that once Felix started on his tirades, there was little anyone could do to stop him. He could ramble on for hours on one topic, if the right thing triggered him. Jisung sincerely hoped that this would not be one of those times, but he had nevertheless resigned himself to settling into a comfortable position. he had stopped trying to understand Felix’s words long ago—even if Jisung’s English weren’t so rusty, Felix was speaking so quickly, and his rant jammed with so much slang and obscure lingo that Jisung was sure it would be difficult for even Chan to decipher. So instead, Jisung had resorted to staring blankly at the younger blonde as he swung his arms in wide, sweeping gestures.

To be truthful, watching the Australian speak was mesmerizing. Felix’s eyes glimmered with barely contained excitement, sparkling as they reflected the afternoon sunlight. His skin was radiant in the wash of the sun, and the freckles scattered across his cheekbones were only accented in the light. He looked ethereal, like a fairy, with his fluffy hair and the sparkling gems that flitted through the air as he waved his hands about.

In short, Felix was breathtaking.

Jisung blinked. Felix was now staring at him with a somewhat expectant gaze.

Unsure of what to do, Jisung gave a hesitant nod.

“Uh, yeah man, totally.”

This seemed to appease Felix, who beamed brightly, and continued on with his ramble.

Jisung couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Adorable.

He leaned forwards, folding his arms so that his elbows rested on the floor while his hands cupped his chin. Jisung kept his gaze trained on Felix, but his mind began to wander again. Felix’s voice drifted into the background, rising and falling with emotion, completely washing over Jisung like a comfortable tide.

Suddenly, however, Jisung’s ears perked up. One word had caught his attention.

“Kiss.”

By now, it was a reflex reaction. Out of all the words that had found its way out of Felix’s mouth over the course of the last hour, only this one had captured Jisung’s full attention. In fact, Jisung seemed hyper-aware of the word. Every molecule in his body tingled at the thought.

Jisung—who had never had any impulse control whatsoever—blurted out immediately, “Well, kiss me then.”  

Felix’s speech screeched to a halt. He himself appeared frozen, one arm still raised in the air, caught mid-gesture. He gaped at Jisung, a mixture of what seemed to be confusion and shock swirling through him.

Jisung pursed his lips. Perhaps Felix had failed to understand his meaning. He tried again, this time switching to English.

“Kiss me then.”

A beat passed. Then another. Jisung was beginning to fidget, frustrated and very impatient. Right as he was about to give up, Felix darted forwards and pressed a fleeting peck on Jisung’s pout.

He had barely registered the kiss before Felix was scrambling up, fleeing the room with incoherently murmured excuses, everything from the neck up flushed a bright pink.

Jisung was left alone in the living room, still sitting dumbly on the carpeted floor. Slowly, he raised his fingers to his lips and gingerly poked them.

“Oh… my god,” he muttered, in utter disbelief.

A grin slowly crept onto Jisung’s face. This was amazing. Fantastic. He squealed (internally) and scrambled his way up as well, making to follow the younger boy. There was nowhere to hide in these dorms, especially not from a particularly persistent Jisung, who was determined to get his kisses. More of them, because one was obviously not enough!

(The imprint of Felix lingered on Jisung’s lips for a long time afterwards, sunshine and brightness warming his heart.)

Chapter Text

“Jisung, how many times have I told you to stop leaving your dirty laundry all over the place?!”

A pair of fire truck red sweatpants flew through the air and smacked Jisung squarely in the face.

Jisung groaned, blinking his eyes open blearily. He was sitting upright on the edge of his bunk, but he was still half asleep, having dropped into bed only three hours ago. He peeled the pants off of his head to take in the scene before him.

Seungmin was standing by the doorway, glaring disgustedly at a pair of boxers—printed with smiling Doraemon patterns—that dangled from between his thumb and index finger, as if it had somehow personally offended him. (Knowing Seungmin, he probably actually felt this way.) Littered around Seungmin’s feet were other articles of clothing that Jisung vaguely recalled pulling off a few hours ago, when he had finally stumbled back from the studio after a particular busy day (or night, he supposed) of work, into the dorms.

A little sheepishly, Jisung glanced back up to gauge Seungmin’s reaction more precisely.

“…Oops?” he tried, although the hesitation in his voice made it sound more like a question.

The boxers fell from Seungmin’s fingers. Jisung flinched at the sound of the fabric hitting the wooden floor, shrinking into himself even more as Seungmin turned to direct his disappointed gaze at him instead. 

“First of all,” Seungmin began, deadpan, “what are you wearing if your boxers are literally across the room from your body.”

Jisung pouted indignantly. 

“I showered!”

“Well, that’s a first.”

This Seungmin muttered, not quite under his breath.

“Hey!” Jisung seethed in offense. “I’m clean!”

Seungmin lifted an eyebrow. Jisung’s gaze fell back down to the mess on the floor. His feelings of righteous injustice dropped a couple notches, but it was still there.

“When I want to be,” Jisung amended, lifting his arm to scratch awkwardly behind his ear.

Seungmin paused, and slowly, slowly, he tilted his head.

“Are you perhaps implying,” Seungmin said, voice dangerously quiet, a sharp contrast to his angelic face and usual sunshine tone, “that ‘you didn’t want to clean up’? Is that why your clothes are lying everywhere?”

Jisung gulped. Angry Seungmin was not a good Seungmin—even if he was super hot, which! Not the point, Jisung!

Jisung had to think fast, had to divert his attention, somehow.

“No, no, no, NO!” Jisung hopped out of bed, frantically shaking his head, as if that would somehow dislodge the idea from Seungmin’s mind.

Jisung crossed the room in a few leaping steps, and, with only a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed hold of Seungmin’s wrists. Praying that the other would not snap just yet, Jisung pulled the two down, tumbling on to the nearby bunk—which happened to be Seungmin’s.

Seungmin appeared vaguely perplexed, but his eyes no longer simmered with cold, murderous intent, so Jisung took that as a good sign to continue.

He took a deep breath to ready himself, and then the words began pouring out.

“Don’t misunderstand, Minnie, of course I wanted to clean up, I promised you I would do my best didn’t I? I don’t break promises, Seungminnie, you know that. It’s just that we got back really really really late last night—”

“This morning, you mean.”

“—whatever, same difference—because we were writing and you know how that goes, I was super tired, all my energy was spent, and I just wanted to shower and go to bed, and my mind was a mess, but I promise I’ll remember next time so please please please please forgive me—”

Jisung’s remaining words were smothered by a pillow to the face. Tentatively, he peeked over the fringe of the cushion. Seungmin was still glowering at him, but there was no longer any heat behind the glare. Jisung breathed a soft sigh of relief. Crisis averted. He mentally patted himself in the back. 

They stayed in that position for a while, Jisung smiling loopily down at Seungmin. Seungmin, who was beginning to look rather cross. And a little red in the face.

“Can— can you get off of me and pick up your stuff then?”

Seungmin squeezed the words out, seemingly with much difficulty.

Jisung’s mouth formed an ‘o’ as he realized that his entire weight was pressing down against the other boy, crushing his lungs. He wriggled down to give Seungmin room to breathe, but made no other move to get off the boy.

Seungmin eyed Jisung’s pout warily.

“What do you want.”

This was clearly the opening that Jisung had been waiting for. His eyes sparkled with glee, and he brought his hands together excitedly.

“I want you to kiss me!”

Seungmin’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m sorry, what.”

Jisung rolled his eyes. 

“Kiss me. I want you—” he poked Seungmin’s shoulder, “—to kiss me.” He jerked a thumb toward himself.

“Why? I’m not Hyunjin,” Seungmin scoffed.

Jisung didn’t know what that had to do with anything, so he ignored it.

“I need to prove to you how clean I am,” Jisung said, grinning mischievously. “Because I am sparkling~ clean~”

Seungmin sent him a dry, unamused glare.

“No,” he deadpanned.

Jisung stuck out his lower lip, widening his already comically large eyes. “Please please please please please? Just a little peck, at least?”

Seungmin only rolled his eyes, completely unaffected.

“You know that doesn’t work on me. Your puppy eyes are nowhere near as powerful as Innie’s.”

Jisung gasped, affronted. But then he paused to process and consider this, and accepted it—Seungmin was right. No one was as powerful as their maknae. Jisung decided to try a different approach.

With a grunt, Jisung collapsed his full weight on top of Seungmin, once again sprawling over his chest. Beneath him, Seungmin let out a surprised “oof”.

“Seungminnie~ Minnie Minnie Seungminnie~” Jisung whined, prodding the other’s cheek with each call of his name.

Seungmin tolerated another full minute of this before he finally gave in.

“Oh my god Jisung, fine, I’ll kiss you! Just please let me breathe!” Seungmin gasped, swatting at the other’s hand in a valiant attempt to get him to stop.

Jisung squealed in delight, scrambling up immediately.

Seungmin shifted uncomfortably, and Jisung eagerly gave him a hand, helping him rise into an upright position. As soon as Seungmin was sitting up, Jisung blinked his eyes shut, puckering his lips expectantly.

With his eyes closed, Jisung did not see the soft pink blush that dusted over Seungmin’s cheekbones as he leaned down, and pecked a gentle kiss on the other’s lips. Jisung only felt the soft tingly sensation of Seungmin’s lips, and then their sudden absence as Seungmin pulled back, pretend-gagging.

Jisung opened his eyes to see Seungmin making a face.

“Ew, morning breath.” Seungmin complained, although the tips of his ears were adorably red.

Jisung giggled. He leaned forward again, searching for more kisses, which Seungmin promptly gave him, but not without saying, after they pulled apart again,

“Hey, when are you going to clean up?”

Jisung shut him up with another lingering kiss.

“I will, later, I promise.”

“You’d better.”

Jisung smiled, and pressed more kisses to Seungmin’s face, relishing in the feeling of Seungmin’s lips against his own.

“You’re so annoying, Sungie.”

“M’not annoying. I’m endearing~”

Seungmin snorted, then peppered Jisung with soft butterfly kisses.

When Minho walked past the room later to check on Jisung’s health status—he had been the first victim of Seungmin’s complaints about the young rapper that morning—the two of them were still cuddling on Seungmin’s bed, now half asleep. Minho scoffed at the sight. Seungmin could never stay mad at Jisung for long. He turned away, but doubled back a moment later. It’s always good to have a little blackmail on hand.

(Jisung fell asleep in Seungmin’s arms, draped in the scent of freshly washed laundry and morning dew.)

Chapter Text

The dorms were dark when Jisung returned, creeping into the room he shared with Jeongin. Without really thinking, Jisung made his way to the bed where Jeongin was sleeping, and crawled onto the mattress.

The person who had been lying there shifted in his sleep.

“Hi Innie, I’m home~”

Jeongin groaned and buried his face into his pillows.

“Your favorite hyung is back! Gimme some cuddles,” Jisung whispered, snaking his arms around the younger’s blanket-wrapped torso.

Jeongin wriggled slightly in protest. Jisung just sighed contentedly, resting his cheek against the other’s back.

Finally, Jeongin’s voice, soft and groggy with sleepiness, piped up.

“Did you shower?”

Jisung paused. Pondered, for a second.

Then, “…no?” 

A heavy sigh escaped into the darkness.

There was a rustle of movement, and suddenly Jeongin had flipped over and Jisung was unceremoniously dumped onto the floor.

“Ow…” Jisung whined, rubbing at his tailbone.

“Don’t even think about coming back until you’re clean,” Jeongin’s voice became muffled as he pulled his covers over his head in silent dismissal.

Jisung huffed and made a face (that no one could see) but got up and hobbled to the bathroom.

He really, really wanted Jeongin’s cuddles.

Two hours later, Jisung was woken by Jeongin, who was clambering out of the bed. Blearily, Jisung reached out, his hand finding Jeongin’s ankle.

“Where’re you going?” His words were slurred with sleep.

Jeongin turned back, shaking his leg free from Jisung’s loose grasp.

“We have a shoot today. I’m waking up Hyunjin hyung,” Jeongin whispered. He paused, then gave Jisung a sympathetic look and a soft pat. “You should probably get up soon too.”

At this, Jisung groaned, and instead curled into the warm blankets Jeongin had left behind. He was going to squeeze in every second of sleep he possibly could.

Jeongin stood there, watching the older boy wrap himself back up in covers for a brief moment. Then, he shrugged, and padded away, presumably to Hyunjin’s room.

Not long after, all eight members of Stray Kids—Jisung included—piled into their company van, herded by their ruffled manager. Jisung tumbled in next to Jeongin, and promptly dropped his head onto the other’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Innie,” he murmured, before drifting back to sleep, the dim noise of the other members a faint static in the background.

Too soon, they arrived at their destination, and Jisung was shaken awake. He climbed out of the van last, clinging relentlessly onto Jeongin.

The eight idols made their way into the dressing room, where their stylists and make-up artists were waiting. Jisung smiled sheepishly as his make-up artist fluttered around him, tutting at the dark circles beneath his eyes.

“If you would actually take care of yourself and get some rest for once in your life, you would make my life so much easier,” she complained, though in good-natured teasing. “But you won’t ever listen to me, will you?”

Jisung shrugged good-naturedly.

“What can I say? This is the price of musical genius.”

At the make-up artist’s scolding tut, Jisung giggled, and amended, “I might. In the… future.”

A voice floated over from a few feet away.

“He’s lying, he definitely won’t.”

“Hey!” Jisung swiveled around—at the fervent protests of the make-up artist—to find the culprit, and his eyes landed on a way too self-satisfied Jeongin.

Jisung’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t call me a liar, Yang Jeongin,” he growled, trying to emanate a scary, commanding aura. Perhaps something similar to Chan’s when he got serious. Jisung thought he was doing pretty well until Jeongin—the brat—began to laugh.

“Nope!” Jeongin replied, obnoxiously popping the ‘p’, frustratingly high-spirited. “I do what I want~”

Jisung pouted. His make-up artist, familiar with the usual shenanigans, expertly spun the rapper back around, ignoring his exaggeratedly wounded expression.

Ten minutes later, the artist gave Jisung one last pat, and announced with finality, “Done!”

Immediately, Jisung bounced up, bowed a quick thanks, and darted off in search of the group’s maknae. The make-up artist rolled her eyes as she gathered her supplies. 

“Kids these days,” she muttered under her breath. 

Jisung found Jeongin sitting on the couch, fully outfitted and ready to go. Jisung flounced into the seat next to him.

“Hi Jeonginnie!”

Jeongin took one look at Jisung’s eager expression and immediately groaned into his hands.

“What!” Jisung exclaimed, a little offended at the strong reaction.

Jeongin lifted his head and glowered into Jisung’s eyes.

“The answer is no.”

“I didn’t even ask you anything!” Jisung gasped, affronted.

“Yeah, but you were going to.” Jeongin wrinkled his nose. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you making out with all the hyungs like you’re going down a list. And now I’m the only one left.”

“I have NOT made out with everyone,” Jisung huffed indignantly. “Channie hyung only gave me one peck. You can barely even call that kissing.”

Jeongin rolled his eyes. “Invalid example. Chan hyung doesn’t count, he’s like our dad. It would be weird to make out with him, platonically or otherwise.”

He made a gagging noise, and mimed a knife cutting across his throat.

Jisung rolled his eyes back at the younger. 

“Whatever. My point still stands. What makes you think I want to kiss you, anyway. You’re like a baby.”

Jeongin raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t?”

There was a momentary pause before Jisung caved with a sigh.

“Okay, fine, I do. I want to kiss you too.”

Jeongin grinned, triumphant.

Jisung sat there, playing with the tassels of a cushion, before a thought occurred to him.

“How did you know I kissed everyone else, anyway? Half the time no one was around.”

Jeongin scoffed.

“You’re so concentrated on sucking someone else’s face that you don’t notice anything, it’s almost funny. Besides, every time you get a kiss from someone, you walk around the rest of the day with this starstruck expression on your face, like you’ve just won the lottery or something. It’s very, very obvious, hyung.”

That said, Jeongin stood up, brushed invisible lint from his pants, then strode away, leaving a very shocked Jisung glued to the couch.

“For the record, I was only gonna ask you to play games with me just now!” Jisung yelled, when he managed to somewhat come back to himself, but Jeongin was long gone.

Half an hour later, everyone was ready to go, and Jisung had gotten over his initial shock to change into the proper outfit. He had also decided that Jeongin’s rejection would only fuel his determination to achieve his goal. He was willing to risk anything.

With this in mind, Jisung stepped into the recording set. The set was small, with just enough room for them to dance in, although not particularly comfortably. The manager was briefing the members on the plan—this was some sort of random speed dance challenge, and the first person to mess up would get a penalty. Simple enough.

All eight members nodded to signal their understanding, and the manager relaxed the tiniest degree.

The cameras began to roll.

“One, two, step out! Hello, we are Stray Kids!”

The hosts introduced the group with the usual friendly banter. Jisung’s eyes were starting to glaze over when one of the hosts began to explain the penalty.

“Whoever is the first to make a mistake… will get kisses from the rest of the members!”

The room erupted in chaos, as the boys protested vehemently. Of course, it was all for the sake of the audience, because God knows how often they’ve all kissed each other back in the dorms. Jisung, meanwhile, was beginning to form a sinister plan.

After settling down, the group moved into starting formation. Music poured out of the speakers, and they began to dance.

Usually, Jisung would lose himself to the music, let his muscle memory and hours of practice take over. This time, however, he kept his eyes trained on Jeongin.

At first, Jisung played it safe. He kept his flirting to a minimum, merely sending teasing smirks every once in a while, when his eyes made contact with Jeongin’s. To the younger boy’s growing horror, however, Jisung soon began to go farther. The subtle eye smiles turned into blatant winks, and then painfully obvious nudging as they brushed past each other. Finally, after Jisung had once again caught the youngest’s eyes, this time shooting finger hearts in his direction, Jeongin stumbled over his feet, face flushing red with embarrassment.

“And… I.N gets the penalty!” The host walked back into the camera’s view, shaking his head in pretend disappointment. “And you were doing so well! What happened?”

“INNIE!!” Hyunjin screeched, launching himself onto the resigned younger boy. Jisung cackled in the background.

“It was sabotage,” Jeongin pouted, arms crossed over his chest even as the rest of the members toppled over him as well, eager to give him the penalty kiss. Jeongin stood there, enduring the giggly mass with a nose wrinkled in disgust.

As Jisung’s turn approached, Jeongin glared at him with all his might. Don’t you dare, he mouthed, eyes narrowing at Jisung’s manic expression. He was already preparing to run away when he felt the other’s lips press quickly to his cheek. They soon pulled away, and Jeongin was only left with Jisung’s whisper of you owe me one later~ in his ear.

The moment a break was announced and the cameras stopped rolling, Jisung pulled a protesting Jeongin into the dressing room, bouncing with barely contained enthusiasm. As the door clicked shut behind them, Jisung turned around to face the youngest member of the team.

With a shit-eating grin, Jisung quipped, “You owe me a kiss.”

Jeongin scowled, rolling his eyes. Jisung pouted in return. The two of them stood like that, facing off against each other in an almost comical stance.

A minute later, Jeongin finally broke.

“Oh fine. Fine. You can have your kiss, happy? Just don’t pull something like that again,” Jeongin relented, although his voice trailed into a whine as he recalled the injustice he had just had to suffer.

Jisung squealed in excitement. Eagerly, he pulled Jeongin closer, cupping the other boy’s soft cheeks. He smiled as Jeongin’s eyes automatically fluttered closed, marveling in the boy’s sharp beauty before leaning in, sealing their lips in a sweet, chaste kiss.

As he pulled away, Jisung—unable to avoid the temptation—darted out his tongue, swiping across Jeongin’s bottom lip. The younger boy’s eyes snapped open in shock, wide-eyed at Jisung’s antics. The guilty rapper only grinned cheekily.

Later, during the second segment, Jeongin was asked about the “most annoying hyung”.

Without a single drop of hesitation, Jeongin announced to the world: “Han hyung.”

Jisung gasped in mock shock and offense.

“How dare you, I’m never buying you shoes again!”

(Jeongin’s lip had tasted of candy apples, all childhood and innocence, courtesy of the lip gloss that had been painted over them.)

Chapter Text

“Solo songs?!” Jisung screeched. This was not the direction he had thought Chan would go when he called an impromptu 3RACHA meeting at one in the morning.

Chan beamed at him, impervious to Jisung’s dramatic exclamations. He was way too energetic and cheerful for such a late hour—a stark contrast to Jisung, who was having trouble just keeping his eyes open. 

“I was talking to JYP earlier, and we agreed that it would be a great way to show off each of our individual skill sets. Don’t you think it would be cool to have a track that is entirely created by you on an official Stray Kids album?”

Jisung acquiesced reluctantly. It did sound pretty cool. That didn’t mean he lacked worries, however.

“I’ve never done a solo song before… I don’t know if I can actually do it. There’s so much stuff! And pressure! And—”

Chan didn’t seem to share any of those doubts.

“Hannie, you’ve done this before. Think of all the songs you’ve written. I have full confidence that you can pull this off.”

Jisung frowned. “But that’s different.”

“How so?”

“I…” Jisung paused, thinking. “I guess there’s just more pressure because I’m taking sole responsibility. For everything. Ugh. And what would I even write a song about?”

Chan sent him an enigmatic smile.

“Anything you want.”

Jisung pursed his lips and fell into deep thought.

Changbin, meanwhile, just looked irritated. He rubbed circular motions at the furrow between his brows. 

“And you decided to tell us this now. At this time. When I could be in bed, actually getting rest for once. You did this, why?”

Chan coughed, awkwardly avoiding the other’s gaze.

“I… may have forgotten about it… until now.”  

Before Changbin could explode, he added hastily, “And besides, you guys were busy. I didn’t want to, you know, interrupt your workflow, or whatever.”

Changbin threw his hands into the air in exasperation. 

“Literally WHAT WORKFLOW! I was staring at one screen for half an hour, and you know that.” 

Chan winced. 

“Um, sorry?” He shrugged his arms, both palms turned up to face the sky in the universal what can you do gesture. 

Changbin groaned, dropping his head into his hands.

“In case you wanted to know—”

“We don’t,” Changbin cut in, purely on reflex. As per usual, Jisung ignored him. 

“—I didn’t have any trouble today. I finished my lyrics to your track, and I came up with a possible melody line for that one B-side. So, no worries here! Maybe you’re just incompetent, hyung.” 

Changbin muffled a bloodcurdling scream. 

Chan patted the other’s knee sympathetically, appearing vaguely constipated at the scene unfolding before him.

“let’s just… go home, shall we?” Chan suggested.

Jisung cheered, standing up.

“I’ll be ready in five!”

It was an early Sunday morning when Minho walked into the kitchen, yawning. His arms were bent behind his head in a lazy stretch, allowing a thin sliver of tan belly to peek through the fabric of his t-shirt. He stopped short, however, when his eyes landed on a small figure sprawled on top of the counter.

Curious, Minho padded over, his still sleep-addled brain registering the figure as Jisung, scribbling away in a slim notebook with a hood pulled over his messy mop of hair.

Wordlessly, Minho draped his arms over the unsuspecting boy. Jisung startled slightly, but soon settled underneath the comfortable weight of the dancer.

“What’re you doing?” Minho mumbled, words slurring together with a hint of sleep.

“Mm…” Jisung continued writing for several seconds before he answered. “Lyrics. Ideas. For the solo.”

“Oh! I heard about that, from Channie hyung.”

“Mhm.”

Jisung fell back into silence.

Minho watched as the pen in Jisung’s hand scratched against the smooth paper, filling the ivory pages with colorful words and phrases, all jumbled in a way that only the rapper could decipher. After a few moments, Minho gently extricated himself from the younger boy, and padded to the cabinet to pour himself a bowl of cereal. He left the kitchen with a fond smile, leaving the young boy to continue working. He knew—everyone knew—that when Jisung fell into this trance, nothing would get him out. And there was no doubt about it, this one was going to produce another masterpiece. 

A knock on the door jolted Jisung out of his reverie. he pulled his headphones off as he spun around in his large chair, to see a beaming Felix poking his head into the studio. 

“May I enter this most hallowed lair?”

There was a twinkle in his eyes as Felix pushed the door open further, stepping inside without awaiting a response.

Jisung rolled his eyes.

“What do you want.”

The blonde rolled over a chair. Throwing one leg over the seat, he turned to face Jisung, now straddling the back of the chair.

“I wanted to see what you were working on!” Felix replied, smile somewhat crooked.

Jisung was unconvinced. He raised an eyebrow.

Felix pouted, then lifted his hidden hand, revealing a heavy plastic bag.

“And Minho hyung told me to give this to you. He said I could force feed you, if necessary,” Felix added, looking concerningly enthusiastic about the second part of the message.

Jisung snatched the bag from Felix’s grip, ignoring the other’s disappointed pout.

“That won’t be necessary, thank you very much.”

Jisung set the bag onto the desk and opened the container inside. The delicious smell of warm food wafted towards his nose, and he suddenly became conscious of the gnawing hunger in the pit of his stomach. Sending a quiet reminder to thank Minho in his head, Jisung dug in while Felix watched, amused.

Feeling the other’s gaze on him, Jisung glanced up, a question clear in his wide eyes. (His mouth was otherwise preoccupied, seeing that his cheeks were currently bulging with rice.)

Felix scooted closer.

“Can I pleeease have a peek? Pretty please? With a cherry on top?”

Jisung scoffed—simultaneously almost choking—and shook his head firmly.

“Jisungie~ My best bro, my soulmate, my almost twin… just a teeny tiny snippet?”

Jisung groaned. Laboriously, he swallowed the mouthful of food, before he proceeded to reply.

“Felix, as much as I adore you, you’ll have to wait, just like everyone else.”

He placed an emphasis on the last two words, glaring at the sulking boy before him.

“But Chan hyung gets to hear it,” Felix stuck his lip out further.

“No, he actually didn’t this time.”

Jisung smirked at the expression of shock that flitted across the younger’s face, before he stood up and manhandled the blonde out of the studio.

Before he slammed the door shut, Jisung heard Felix mutter resentfully, “But this always worked on Changbin hyung.” 

“That’s because he’s whipped~” Jisung yelled through the crack, cackling with glee at the scandalized face that Felix made.

Locking the door, Jisung turned back to the task at hand, the plate of food now completely forgotten.

When Jisung walked into the dorms, Hyunjin was the first person he saw. Or, more accurately, felt.

The taller boy had flung himself at Jisung the moment he had stepped through the doorway, a whirlwind of limbs and giggles. Jisung stumbled backwards at the unexpected projectile, his hands automatically reaching up to clasp the other’s waist.

“Someone’s excited to see me,” Jisung grinned, waggling his brows suggestively.

Hyunjin stuck out his tongue, making a noise of disgust in the back of his throat. It sounded like retching. 

Jisung stumbled his way into the living room with the extra weight, Hyunjin still clinging onto him like a human koala. There, the rest of the members were huddled on and around the couch, staring intently as Felix and Minho battled it out in some game or other. To Jisung’s surprise, even Chan was present—Chan, who probably had not left his studio at all in the past few days, and had most likely gotten less sleep than Jisung himself.

Dropping his bag, Jisung walked (correction: lumbered) over to the group, joining the little dog pile that had formed at the foot of the couch—which was way too small to accommodate all eight boys.

“What’s going on?”

Seungmin piped up from the opposite end of the couch. “We heard that you were done with your song.”

Jisung whipped his head to see a sheepish Chan and Changbin. his eyes narrowed as he hissed, “That was confidential information!”

Chan averted his eyes, but Changbin spoke up, albeit rather timidly.

“Well, you are done—”

“With the first draft!”

“—and peer criticism is important for every artist—”

“I’m not finished!”

“—and we kinda wanted to hear it too…”

Jisung groaned, his head falling into his hands.

Hyunjin—who was still wrapped around the smaller boy—ruffled his hair sympathetically.

“Sungie, we just weren’t used to not being able to hear your works-in-progress. We just got a little… impatient.”

Jisung made a noise that sounded suspiciously like “no, really?”.

Hyunjin shrugged apologetically, but he peeled Jisung’s fingers off of his face, forcing the younger to look him in the eye.

“Please?”

Recognizing his defeat, Jisung let out a long-suffering sigh.

Immediately, everyone whooped in excitement.

Begrudgingly, Jisung clambered over to his bag, pulling out his laptop. The members waited with bated breath as the music program loaded, dozens of files slowly popping into view. 

Jisung pulled up the proper file, but he hesitated, cursor hovering over the “play” button.

With a soft huff, Hyunjin bent over to tap the mouse instead.

Jisung squealed, embarrassed as the first notes—a haunting piano melody—floated into the quiet room. Unable to bear the tension, he turned around, burying his face into Hyunjin’s shirt as the track began to play.

It was a sweet, sentimental tune. Jisung’s voice, at first low and raspy, drifted softly, carrying the melody with ease. Soon, his voice swept into a higher octave, strong and powerful and clear, eliciting gasps from all around the room. Everyone remained still, trapped in the magic of Jisung’s voice, as he rapped about coffee and cotton candy and salt in the breeze, drifting from warm to bittersweet to a soft, wistful ending. As the song came to a close, Jisung’s voice seemed to linger in the air, a gentle yet evocative presence.

Jisung’s heart hammered against his chest during the brief moment of silence. He had never been so nervous about revealing a track before. It was an odd, unfamiliar sensation.

Then, seven boys were on top of him, squealing in delight.

“That was amazing, Sungie!”

“How does your voice do that?”

“That chord progression in the bridge? I’m in awe.”

“You’re gonna make me cry, oh wait, no, I am crying…”

Jisung smiled softly, preening under the praises.

“How did you come up with this?”

This was Felix, wide- and starry-eyed.

Jisung blushed a pretty pink. Gazing down at his hands, he murmured quietly, “It was about you guys.” 

These words took only a second to sink in, before the boys were on Jisung again, this time cooing and pinching his cheeks, marveling over his adorableness, fond smiles all around.

Jisung lay there, at the bottom of the giant cuddle pile, wearing an expression of absolute bliss. This was paradise, being surrounded by people you love who you know loves you back.

Jisung was so, so happy.