Work Text:
The skin around Dowoon’s thumbnail is peeling, and he chews away at it until it bleeds. The night air wraps around his frame, cradling him where he is curled up on the balcony floor. The phantom thought of picking up smoking runs around in his mind, or drinking until his throat burns. The cars and few drunkards make noise in the street below, and Dowoon finds that he can’t focus on any of it.
There’s an abandoned water bottle beside his curled up legs, mostly empty, and Dowoon’s eyes switch in and out of focus as he watches the condensation slowly trail down the sides. He can’t think of a reason as to why he feels so numb, aside from the cold that nips at his bare fingers. His lungs feel heavy, like anchors in the dark water that is his existence. Intrusive thoughts slip through one by one, promising emotion, promising pain. There is a plant that Wonpil forgot on the rail of the balcony, leaves brown and wilting. Dowoon feels like it’s a good mental image of himself.
The time until Dowoon arrives at the all-night convenience store disappears, and he blinks at the lost time as the cashier silently returns his debit card. The cheapest box of cigarettes available is slid across the counter with a shitty lighter, and Dowoon nods in thanks without raising his eyes. The hyungs would probably get upset if they found out he was doing this, so he makes his way to the bank of the Han River.
He chokes on the disgusting smoke as soon as he inhales it, spluttering out a heaving cough. The night is quiet around him, and as he manages to inhale without gagging, the heat spreads through his chest. It doesn’t fill the gaping hole that sits under his sternum, but the warmth lets him pretend for a moment that he’s feeling something. The smell definitely sneaks into the fibres of his thin jacket, and he decides he doesn’t care if they notice. Not much they can do to stop him anyway, he realizes. The first cigarette doesn’t last long, and his throat scratches from the inside out, but he lets himself light another.
The lights of the city reflect in the black water, and the compelling urge to reach out and cradle the light to his chest sinks into his brain. The warmth of the smoke swirling around inside his chest lets him sink back into the park bench, and Dowoon finds himself blinking up at the sky. The stars aren’t visible, and the moon is hidden by clouds.
No one wakes up when Dowoon reenters the dorm, shedding his clothes into the laundry basket and collapsing onto his bed. His fingers shake when he pulls the blanket over his head, hoping that he doesn’t wake up.
Jae is the one to wake him the next day, calling out his name from the open door. Dowoon has no strength to yell at Jae, and silently nods at the wake up call, pushing himself to sit up.
If there’s a god, he must take this moment to be kind, as no one intercepts Dowoon between his bedroom and the bathroom. He brushes his teeth, covering up the bitter tobacco smell with mint. His throat still aches, but he doesn’t have to sing today.
The group is mostly quiet in the morning, save for Younghyun and Jae. Wonpil takes longer to wake up, and when Dowoon returns freshly showered, there is little conversation to be made. They have to prepare for a comeback, and it’s nothing new. They’ll write and practice songs until they want to strangle each other, and then they’ll leave each other alone for a few days, and do it all again.
“We have singing lessons today,” Sungjin rubs at his eyes, turning his attention to Dowoon. Dowoon looks up from his cup of tea, acknowledging the information.
“You’ll be free to practice on your own until midday,” Sungjin turns back to his coffee and his phone, checking messages.
“Ah, so lucky,” Wonpil groans, peering up from where he has collapsed onto the table. Dowoon doesn’t know how to tell Wonpil that he’ll probably spend the whole time staring at the wall or hiding in the underground car park to smoke.
Dowoon again loses time until they arrive at the company building, going their separate ways. Dowoon gazes around the practice room, sitting down on his drum stool. Music stands and random chairs litter the space, and Dowoon spends about half an hour staring blankly at his snare drum.
A company employee walks past the door, and it snaps Dowoon out of it. He pushes himself to standing, checking his jeans pocket for the cigarette packet he had left in there the night before. He doesn’t pay attention as he makes his way downstairs, through the enclosed stairwells and into the parking lot.
It’s where he has seen employees smoking before, hiding from the press and managers. He sits on the grimy pavement, and feels like he’s moving through water as he goes through the motions of lighting a cigarette. An employee comes out at some point during his multiple cigarettes, and he silently offers them one. It’s one of the staff that works with GOT7, and so they leave him be other than a silent company. His hyungs had fought so hard with JYP to get Dowoon vocal lessons, and so if any of his own team, hyungs or JYP knew what he was doing, he’d be getting an earful.
The employee leaves quietly, and Dowoon forces himself to smile a little as the man leaves. As far as Dowoon is aware, some of the back up dancers and choreographers also smoke down here. There had been a rumour that Jaebeom sometimes came down to smoke too, but Dowoon hasn’t seen him there before.
“You smell awful,” Jae scowls as he returns to the practice room, “why do you smell like a chain smoker?” Dowoon shrugs, picking at his nails from behind his drum kit.
“I was spending time with one of the staff,” Dowoon bends the truth, and Jae seems to accept it with a scrunched up nose.
“Here, or Sungjin will freak,” Jae throws a can of spray deodorant to Dowoon, who catches it clumsily.
“Open the window too.”
Sungjin doesn’t notice, and neither do the other two members, but Dowoon doesn’t really care. Dowoon is separated enough from them behind his drum kit that he zones out, playing what he needs to. The songs aren’t new, so he doesn’t have to think, and so his mind travels.
“Yah, Dowoon,” Sungjin calls, and Dowoon jolts in place.
“Hyung?” Dowoon raises his eyebrows, not sure why everyone is staring at him.
“You’ve been staring at the ceiling for the entire water break,” Younghyun frowns, tossing him a bottle of water now that Dowoon is able to catch it. Dowoon gulps down the water, and it soothes the itching in his throat.
“Sorry hyungs, I was just thinking,” Dowoon tightens his lips in a faux grin, trying to appease the older men.
“It’s okay, just try to stay focused,” Sungjin sighs, turning back to his amp to fiddle with something. Younghyun’s eyes stay focused on Dowoon for a bit longer, but he eventually gives up. Wonpil shrugs it off easily, paying attention to his phone. Only Jaehyung seems to actually pay attention, frowning at Dowoon across the room. It’s okay, Dowoon thinks, phantom drumming the beat to the next song. It’s not like he’s doing anything wrong, losing himself inside his own head.
The rest of the afternoon goes fairly uneventfully, and Dowoon is glad he can lose himself to the routine of their songs. It means he can ignore Jae’s periodic looks in his direction, watching for some sign of… something.
They eat dinner surprisingly quietly, Sungjin and Wonpil taking over the living room to watch a movie. Younghyun says that he’s going to be working on some lyrics, and closes the door to his bedroom. Dowoon leaves Jae in the kitchen on the same wavelength, eager to hide until they’ve all gone to bed.
Hours later when the television shuts off, and footsteps trail around the dorm and bedroom doors close, Dowoon lets himself breathe easier. The balcony entrance is in the living room, so he quietly slides his socked feet across the floor until he reaches the glass door. No lights are left on, so he feels less worried when he opens the door, immediately slipping his feet through the bars. His feet dangle over the edge, and he leans his forehead against the cold metal rail.
Dowoon flicks the lighter on and off as he smokes, enjoying the flash of light and clicking sound. Maybe he gets complacent, or maybe he just doesn’t care, because he knows that any of his hyungs could walk out and see him.
The glass door slides open behind him, and he doesn’t turn to look.
“Explains the smell,” Jae states quietly, no hint of judgement in his voice. Dowoon can feel that his hyung sits next to him on the ground, thigh pressing against Dowoon’s. Dowoon places the cigarette between his lips and inhales deeply, breathing out into the night sky.
“Could you smell it inside?” Dowoon grumbles, voice a little scratchier than usual.
“Yeah, but my window was open,” Jae responds, pulling the plant off the railing and onto his lap. Dowoon turns his head to watch his hyung, but turns away to exhale smoke out of courtesy.
“I told Pillie that he couldn’t keep a plant alive,” Jae talks, mostly to himself, but Dowoon finds himself appreciating the company.
“When did you start?”
“Recently,” Dowoon turns his attention back to the street below his feet, where his cigarette ash currently falls.
“Are you going to tell me to stop?”
“Nah,” Jae reaches up to put the plant back, “but Sungjin will if he finds out.”
“I know,” Dowoon admits, tapping on the cigarette's short body to free some ash. The ember glows in the dark, and Dowoon feels the smoke under his skin.
“Brian would probably tell you that you look cool, and then smack the smoke out of your hand,” Jae grins at the thought, “and Pil would probably panic and tell Sungjin.” It’s a believable guess, and Dowoon crushes the remainder of the cigarette on the concrete floor.
“Probably,” Dowoon agrees, flicking the cigarette butt over the edge of the balcony. It’s not nice to litter, but their street is terrible anyway.
“Cigarettes smell awful,” Jae grimaces, scrunching his nose up, but Dowoon can tell it’s supposed to make him laugh.
“They do,” Dowoon nods, exhaling, but this time only his warm breath steams up the air.
“Don’t stay out here too long, Woonie,” Jae’s voice is full of affection, and it makes Dowoon ache. The older man leaves him to his thoughts, and as he closes the door, he finishes his thought.
“You’ll make yourself sick.” Dowoon smokes three more cigarettes before he forces himself inside, doing late night laundry, showering and brushing his teeth.
The next day is similarly full of long extended periods of Dowoon staring at nothing in specific, and if anyone notices, he isn’t called out on it. They practice until their fingers ache, and Dowoon feels new blisters forming on his fingers. He pokes at them during breaks, wondering if they’ll pop during the next song. During their lunch break they split up, and Dowoon is quick on his feet to escape into the parking lot.
Jaebeom raises an eyebrow in his direction, leaning against the wall. The same staff member nods at Dowoon, ashing his cigarette in the small mug someone had left on the floor. Jaebeom doesn’t make any comments, instead asking about their comeback, and Dowoon shrugs at most questions. He hasn’t paid enough attention, so he apologizes for his vague answers. Jaebeom waves away the apology, like it’s not needed, and breathes in the smoke slowly.
“Do you want to learn a trick?” Jaebeom offers, waving his cigarette slightly in indication. Dowoon has nothing to lose, so he readily accepts. Jaebeom quickly teaches him the steps of exhaling through his nose, and Dowoon feels his nostrils burn. It gives him the mental image of a dragon, and he cracks a small smile at the older man. The staff member pays little attention until his phone alarm goes off, and he informs them of the time.
“Ah, good to see you,” Jaebeom grins, stomping out his smoke. Dowoon follows, not wanting to be alone in the dark basement levels. They part ways, and Dowoon sprays himself with deodorant and swirls some mouthwash around his mouth before returning. Jaehyung raises an eyebrow at him, but says nothing as they prepare to continue practicing.
Younghyun is the second to notice Dowoon’s newfound habit, sneaking a peek at Dowoon’s shopping as he returns with another pack of cigarettes and a bottle of gin. Younghyun squints at the maknae, who returns the look with a dead stare.
“Why do you have cigarettes?” The bassist questions, and Dowoon shrugs a little.
“Don’t give me that, you’re the one who bought them.” Younghyun frowns, and he’s not angry, but Dowoon can’t help but feel the weight of Younghyun’s disappointment on his shoulders.
“I bought them because I wanted them,” Dowoon speaks in a flat tone, and moves to take the bag back from Younghyun. The bassist hides the bag behind his back, pinning Dowoon with a frustrated glare.
“I’m not giving them back to you,” Younghyun informs, voice unusually serious. Dowoon shrugs to himself, not caring enough to fight the older man, and he pivots on his foot to go to bed. Younghyun doesn’t bring it up again, aside from sending glances in Dowoon’s direction, which now pairs with Jae’s thoughtful stares. Dowoon buys more alcohol and cigarettes the next day, and hides them under his bed.
This goes on for a while, although Dowoon couldn’t say for how long because he loses track of the time. Younghyun and Jae don’t bother him during the day, and he goes on nightly walks to the Han River to smoke. He’s sure that Sungjin is finally noticing the dark bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep, or the weight loss from the diet of tea and cigarettes, but the leader doesn’t say anything yet. Dowoon stares at himself in the mirror, his hair growing enough to curl around his ears and into his eyes. He looks gaunt, and like he hasn’t seen the sun in weeks. It eases his nerves that none of his hyungs are bothering him about it, but a small part of him feels like they don’t care enough to. He itches at his hip bone, where circular scabs of popped blisters have cropped up in a disgusting pattern. Dowoon found that he liked putting the glowing embers on his skin, it made his thoughts go away.
“Dowoon,” Wonpil shakes Dowoon’s shoulders to wake him up.
“What?” Dowoon blinks up at the keyboardist, who pouts.
“Don’t you ‘what’ me, it’s time to wake up,” Wonpil instructs, dragging the blankets off the bed. Dowoon is left in his cold bed, glaring at the elder’s back as he leaves the room. Dowoon sits up slowly, letting his head hang forward as he itches his bare chest. His shirt had smelled so strongly of cigarettes that he had immediately thrown it in the washing machine, ignoring the cold as he went to bed. Dowoon places his feet into his house slippers and stands, stretching his arms to the ceiling. His back cracks painfully, and he groans.
“Dowoonie,” Younghyun knocks and lets himself in, and Dowoon spares him a glance as he continues his stretch.
“I know hyung, Wonpil hyung woke me up already,” Dowoon replies curtly, too tired to deal with anything. Younghyun doesn’t respond, or leave, so Dowoon turns his head properly. Younghyun’s eyes aren’t on his face like usual, instead plastered at an awkward height around Dowoon’s hips. Dowoon frowns, confused, and looks down. Suddenly it makes sense; Younghyun can see the scabs - old and new. Younghyun pushes the door closed behind him, and Dowoon refuses to react. He doesn’t have the energy to care what Younghyun will say, so he walks to his closet to pull on the first shirt he finds.
“Dowoon,” Younghyun’s voice is low behind Dowoon, the older man obviously having moved closer out of sight.
“Mm?” Dowoon hums, glad that he slept in sweatpants. Jae would judge him for wearing them two days in a row, but he’s not changing in front of Younghyun. He pulls on some tacky sweater, something Wonpil had gifted him, and turns to face Younghyun. The bassist looks increasingly upset by the second, but Dowoon can’t force himself to emote past a blank stare.
“Dowoon, what are those?” Younghyun’s voice is soft, like he cares so much; Dowoon distantly feels the ache that would have once crippled him, just out of reach. He can’t feel the guilt that would normally course through his veins, and he shrugs. Younghyun’s brows furrow, and Dowoon can see the genuine frustration building.
“No, you’re not getting out of this,” Younghyun grabs Dowoon’s wrist as he tries to step around the older man. Dowoon sighs, more tired than anything, and easily pulls his wrist from Younghyun’s grasp. The older man stomps up behind Dowoon, reaching over his shoulder to slam the door closed again.
Dowoon blinks at the closed door, looking at his hand that is wrapped around the handle.
“It doesn’t matter hyung,” Dowoon doesn’t look over his shoulder, ignoring the arm that is leaning on him.
“Of course it matters, Dowoonie,” Younghyun sounds so frustrated, and Dowoon wishes he could feel bad for it. Younghyun lets his arm fall from the door, wrapping around Dowoon’s shoulders and pulling him into a back hug. Younghyun’s warm breath tickles the back of Dowoon’s neck, and he lets himself be held.
“Let me see.”
“No,” Dowoon mumbles, but he doesn’t fight against Younghyun’s hug. The elder sighs, leaning his head against Dowoon’s hair.
“I’m so worried about you,” Younghyun whispers under his breath, and Dowoon feels nothing but the aching hole in his chest growing wider.
“Don’t be,” Dowoon responds harshly, and there’s an inkling of guilt making its way through his brain as Younghyun releases his hold on him. Dowoon takes this exact moment to flee, flinging the door open and leaving the bassist behind.
Dowoon sits between Jae and Wonpil at the kitchen table, and he can feel Younghyun’s stare the entire time as he slowly sips his tea.
“Dowoon, you have a vocal lesson today. So do you Wonpil,” Sungjin grumbles, eyes not leaving his phone.
“Let’s have an easy Friday, okay? We’ve been working hard,” Sungjin concludes, and Dowoon sighs with relief. That usually means they finish early, and go their separate ways for their weekend activities. Jae and Wonpil cheer at the notion, and Younghyun is uncharacteristically quiet.
“You good, man?” Jae asks quietly across the table, and Dowoon zones out Younghyun’s response.
“Let’s walk together,” Wonpil grins, pulling Dowoon away from the van with ease. Dowoon lets himself be dragged away from the others, thankful it’s not Younghyun he’s stuck with today.
The vocal coaches are usually pretty nice, but Dowoon’s is scary when being stern. The man squints as he directs the warm ups, scratching his chin with suspicion.
“Why does your voice sound like that?” The vocal couch’s eyebrows raise, and Dowoon shrugs.
“Smoking, probably,” Dowoon admits freely, even though he leaves out the regular alcohol he’s been downing during his night walks. The vocal teacher huffs out a sigh, shoulders drooping a little.
“Well, I’m not your dad, so just be careful with it.” Dowoon takes the advice genuinely, not wanting to annoy the man who already has such talented other students.
They run through his vocal lines in their songs, and practice other songs that the vocal coach had picked for him. His throat feels scratchy at times, but otherwise he doesn’t do too badly.
When Wonpil and Dowoon leave the vocal practice rooms, they bump into Jinyoung and Yugyeom. Yugyeom smiles warmly at Dowoon, and he forces his face to return a small grin. Wonpil gets distracted talking to Jinyoung, so Dowoon has to ask Yugyeom.
“Do you know where Jaebeom hyung is?” Dowoon asks, and Yugyeom’s eyebrows raise in surprise, before he shrugs.
“Probably the usual,” Yugyeom mutters under his breath, sending a glance in Jinyoung’s direction. The older man doesn’t notice thankfully, so Yugyeom mimics the act of smoking. Dowoon nods, thanking the younger idol. He tells Wonpil he has to go to the bathroom, and not to wait for him, and leaves the three behind.
Jaebeom is exactly where Dowoon expects him to be, leaning against the wall. He offers Dowoon a closed grin as he inhales, holding the breath for a few seconds and blowing smoke rings.
“Hey,” Jaebeom smiles, offering Dowoon a smoke. Dowoon isn’t usually one to refuse kindness, so he accepts with a small grin.
“I have a question hyung,” Dowoon speaks after a few puffs, and Jaebeom gestures for him to continue.
“How do you sing so well after smoking?” Jaebeom looks away for a moment, before turning his attention back.
“For one, I don’t smoke as many as you,” Jaebeom snorts, kicking Dowoon’s ankle playfully. Dowoon scowls petulantly, flicking his ash in the older man’s direction.
“Yah, be nice. It’s true,” Jaebeom laughs.
“I also use honey, and tea for my throat. If Jinyoung catches on to the fact that I’m still smoking at least once a day, he’ll kill me,” Jaebeom grins sharply. Dowoon nods, leaning against the wall beside Jaebeom.
“Touche,” Dowoon speaks while holding the cigarette with his teeth, scratching at his hip.
“Please don’t tell Sungjin hyung I’ve been smoking with you,” Jaebeom suddenly pleads, a small amount of amusement in his voice.
“Same to you,” Dowoon huffs a laugh, throwing his cigarette butt to the ground and stepping on it.
“What does your weekend look like?”
It’s strange, their little bond formed over cigarettes and quick, vague conversations, but Dowoon can see himself in the slightly shaky hands of the GOT7 leader.
“Not much, thankfully, hopefully Bam and Gyeom let me go to bed early for once.” Dowoon chokes on his laughter, accidentally exhaling through his nose. Jaebeom smiles in amusement, copying the dragon-like action.
“Fair,” Dowoon admits, “I think I want to get drunk,” he sighs. Jaebeom pockets his lighter, offering a travel sized can of deodorant to Dowoon.
“Don’t overdo it kid,” Jaebeom sighs, “if you want to keep pretending you’re okay. They’re going to notice soon.” Dowoon nods, biting the inside of his cheek.
“I don’t really care if they notice,” Dowoon mumbles, and Jaebeom pats his shoulder with a firm and soothing hand.
All eyes turn to Dowoon as he enters the practice room, running a hand through his wild hair.
“Sorry hyungs, I wasn’t feeling well.” Sungjin accepts the excuse without a second glance, and Wonpil seems to shrug it off. Jae barely reacts to the words, sending Dowoon a small smile. It’s an effort to greet him with some form of positivity, and Dowoon wishes he could feel it. Younghyun’s eyes trail after him as he walks through the room, depositing himself behind his drum kit.
“How was your vocal lesson, Dowoon?” Sungjin asks when they’re in the van, and Dowoon is distracted from where he was staring out of the window aimlessly.
“Oh, it was fine,” Dowoon mutters, turning his eyes back out to the blurred scenery.
“We were thinking about giving you more vocal lines in the next song,” Jae informs, pulling up a demo that they’d apparently come up with during the morning. He points out the part they’re intending on, and Dowoon lets the music wash through him. It’s a very groovy song, clearly Younghyun’s influence moving throughout the writing process.
“We’re thinking of pairing your voice with Younghyunnie’s.”
Dowoon’s eyes swivel to the man in question, and sees that the bassist had already been looking at him. It’s slightly unsettling, and he turns to face where Jae is twisting in his seat.
“I can’t quite imagine it, but sure,” Dowoon agrees with a slight nod. There had never been much tension between Dowoon and Younghyun before, so he doesn’t want to give anything away to the others.
“I’ll talk it through with you when we get home,” Younghyun’s words are a warning that only Dowoon recognizes, and he immediately goes on the defensive.
“I’m not staying in tonight, hyung, sorry. I’ll go through it with you later,” Dowoon nods his head in a semi-respectful rejection, and Younghyun looks like he is a second away from making a big deal about it.
“Where are you going?” Jae chimes in, and for once, Dowoon wishes he had walked home. Younghyun raises a daring eyebrow.
“Going out with Youngjae,” Dowoon lies, and none of them have any compromising knowledge to call him out on the lie.
Even though Dowoon likely could’ve called Youngjae for real and asked to meet him somewhere, he chooses not to as he walks into a bar at random. His hyungs mostly prefer drinking at home, so he has no real chance of running into them unless they’re specifically out searching.
He sits on the balcony, the smoking section, and makes idle conversation with the random people around him. They don’t seem too interested in him, and he isn’t interested in them, so the conversations don’t go far. He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, and he ignores it.
After his vision has doubled and his stumbling becomes too much, he drags himself away from the bar. He sits on that familiar park bench beside the Han River, and lets himself get lost in the sky as he lights a cigarette.
The vibration in his pocket finally annoys him enough, and he answers the phone call.
“Mm?” Dowoon answers, not really caring who it is.
“Where are you?” Jae’s slightly frantic voice travels through the phone, and Dowoon frowns at the sound of it.
“Out, why?” Dowoon grumbles, not wanting to deal with any drama. Jae sighs, and it sounds like he says something to someone away from the phone.
“You’re never out this late, Woonie,” Jae speaks softly, as though talking to a child, and it irritates Dowoon. The time on his phone shows it’s two in the morning, and Dowoon laughs.
“I’m regularly out this late, hyung,” Dowoon puffs out smoke at the stars, leaning his head back on the bench.
“I’m fine, just go to bed.” Jae grumbles something, unimpressed, and suddenly Dowoon is no longer talking to Jae.
“If you don’t come back, I’m telling Jae,” Younghyun warns, tone sharp as ever. Dowoon blinks lazily at the moon.
“I don’t care if you do,” Dowoon responds, promptly ending the call. He’d probably be in trouble later, but he can’t find it in himself to care. The alcohol and tobacco create a warm haze in his chest that comforts his brain, and he wishes he could stay like this forever.
When his pack of cigarettes is empty, he forces himself to walk to the local convenience store. It’s the same cashier who sold him the first pack, and they both look as dead to the world as the first time. Dowoon doesn’t bother them with talk, and leaves quickly afterward.
The waistband of his boxers and jeans scratch against the new blisters as he walks through the streets, which trail down his thighs. The smell of burnt hair is disgusting, but the feeling is worth it. Dowoon traipses around their apartment building, avoiding entering until his hands stop shaking. One of his new blisters pops, leaking watery pus into the fabric of his jeans, and he decides to go home.
“Dowoon,” Jae sighs with relief as he pulls Dowoon through the door, and Dowoon suddenly notices that the entire band is awake and in their living room. Jae wraps his arms around Dowoon, and the tall man’s torso shields Dowoon from the sharp eyes of the rest.
“Take him to bed,” Sungjin’s gruff voice calls from behind Jae, and the older man agrees wordlessly, dragging Dowoon through the apartment in a rush. Dowoon avoids the eyes of the other three as they leave, happy to pretend he’s too drunk to explain himself.
“Baby,” Jae scolds, pushing Dowoon to sit on his bed.
“Brian was freaking out so badly,” Jae sighs, pulling Dowoon’s jacket off for him. Dowoon follows the older man with his eyes as the blond fusses over him, pulling off his socks and belt.
“Okay,” Dowoon acknowledges, knowing well that the bassist had been freaking out all day. It didn’t change the fact that he didn’t want to face the older man.
“You smell awful,” Jae chuckles, pushing Dowoon to get under the covers.
“I’ll take care of it tomorrow,” Dowoon murmurs quietly, letting his head fall heavily onto the pillow.
“I think you’re going to have to deal with a lot tomorrow,” Jae sighs, deciding to slide under the sheets with the drummer. Jae pulls Dowoon into his side, petting his hair with his long fingers.
“I know.”
Jae is somewhat awake when Dowoon wakes up, blinking down at him sleepily. Dowoon groans, face planting into the guitarist’s chest, and Jae chuckles.
“I don’t think you’re going to get out of this one,” Jae grins a little, and Dowoon can see the bags under his eyes.
The group is nice enough to let Dowoon shower, change and make himself tea before all attention turns to him. Sungjin’s sharp eyes pin him to the spot, and the leader indicates for the drummer to sit down.
“Dowoonie,” Sungjin starts with a sigh, and Dowoon can’t do much past staring blankly at the older man.
“Are you going to talk to us about whatever is going on, or do I have to ask around?” Sungjin’s eyes flicker in the direction of Jae, and Dowoon knows the guitarist must be avoiding eye contact like the plague. Dowoon wishes he could bring himself to speak up and save Jaehyung, maybe even Younghyun, from Sungjin’s wrath - but he doesn’t.
“Dammit Dowoon,” Younghyun shouts, slamming his hand on the table. Dowoon is the only one who doesn’t flinch.
“Talk to us, please.” He sounds frustrated, and pleading, but Dowoon’s numb brain has no ability to respond.
“Jae,” Sungjin turns his attention to the tall blond man who looks like he’s trying to blend into the wall.
“What do you know?”
“Not much,” Jae admits a little vaguely, and through Sungjin’s strange leader powers, he forces the guitarist to sit next to Dowoon like a witness.
“Bullshit,” Younghyun glares across the table, and Wonpil kicks the bassist under the table.
“It’s true,” Jae leans back in his seat defensively, “I only know that Dowoon started smoking a few weeks ago.” Sungjin doesn’t look surprised, so Dowoon figures that they all know by now.
“Younghyun,” Sungjin turns his attention to the clearly upset bassist, who can’t seem to decide on whether he wants to glare at Jae or Dowoon.
“I caught him buying cigarettes and confiscated them, but it clearly didn’t stop him,” Younghyun huffs petulantly, and Dowoon feels similarly annoyed.
“I only noticed the scabs yesterday,” Younghyun glares at Jae, but it isn’t deserved. Jae turns to Dowoon with a frown, clearly mentally asking what Younghyun is talking about.
“What scabs?” Wonpil finally speaks up, clearly inspecting Dowoon’s arms. Dowoon doesn’t know whether he feels insulted at the insinuation that he’s been cutting himself.
“On his hips,” Younghyun runs a hand through his hair, messing it up further. Sungjin turns his gaze to Dowoon, and there’s a softness that Dowoon doesn’t want to see.
“Dowoon-” Sungjin starts.
“No,” Dowoon speaks finally, and it’s to interrupt his leader. He knows he’s being a shitty dongsaeng and friend, but he refuses to let them see. Jae and Wonpil sound close to tears, and Dowoon won’t raise his eyes from the table.
“I think you’re depressed,” Sungjin summarizes, changing his tactic.
“Probably,” Dowoon agrees, but everything in his voice makes it obvious that he would rather be anywhere else right now, not having this conversation.
“God, let us help you,” Younghyun sounds like he’s about to tear his hair out in frustration, and Dowoon taps his fingers against his mug. There’s a tense silence before Dowoon stands up, and returns to his bedroom. Cursing the fact that there is no lock, he flops face first onto his bed.
There’s loud voices in the kitchen, a clear argument, and Dowoon lets himself drift away from it.
He’s called back to his body when a careful hand is placed on his back, and he turns to see Wonpil’s silhouette crouching next to his bed.
“Are you going to yell at me?” Dowoon asks, and his voice sounds more vulnerable and shaky than he had anticipated. Wonpil shakes his head, running his thin fingers through Dowoon’s hair.
“No,” Wonpil grins a little, but it’s strained. Dowoon shuffles himself towards the wall, and Wonpil takes the invitation, laying down next to the drummer. Wonpil stares at the ceiling while Dowoon stares at his side profile, not sure where this is going.
“Are you sad Dowoon?” Wonpil’s voice is soft, a clear difference from the arguing in the kitchen.
“Of course I’m sad hyung,” Dowoon answers, “I’m always sad.”
The arguing quiets down, and Wonpil turns his head towards the door.
“They’re not mad at you, Woonie,” Wonpil comments, before turning to look at Dowoon. His eyes look sad, and Dowoon feels a little bad that he’s affected the group this much.
“Younghyunnie hyung is,” Dowoon mumbles under his breath, and Wonpil shakes his head quickly.
“No he’s not, he’s just expressing his feelings badly right now.” Wonpil sighs, rolling onto his side to face Dowoon.
“Both him and Jae hyung feel guilty for not noticing earlier, or for not saying something before now. They’re taking it out on each other.” Wonpil pets Dowoon’s hair softly, and Dowoon feels a sudden surge of guilt stab through his chest. He bites back his tears, burying his face in the pillow, and Wonpil wraps an arm over his back.
“I’m sorry,” Dowoon whispers, trying not to cry in front of Wonpil, but Wonpil just keeps holding him and petting his hair.
“Don’t be,” Wonpil hushes, petting Dowoon’s shaking back. It must be obvious that Dowoon is crying, but the older man doesn’t comment on it.
The door opens quietly, and Wonpil readjusts slightly.
“Is he awake?” It’s Younghyun’s voice, and it’s rough, likely from the earlier shouting.
“He is,” Wonpil gives Dowoon away, and Dowoon silently curses.
“If you two are going to start arguing again, do it outside.” Wonpil’s tone is threatening, and although he’s talking to his hyungs, neither of them dare to scold him.
“We won’t,” Jae mumbles, “please Pillie.”
“Fine,” Wonpil pets Dowoon’s hair once more for good measure before climbing off the bed. Dowoon’s silent sobbing has stopped, but he refuses to lift his face from the pillow when the mattress dips beside him.
“Woonie,” Younghyun’s voice is closer than Dowoon had anticipated, and he holds the pillow tighter against his face.
“We just want to talk, we’re not mad at you.” There’s the sound of a light slap, and Younghyun sighs.
“I’m not mad at you, I promise.” He sounds genuine, so Dowoon slowly peeks up from the pillow, hoping his long fringe will cover his puffy eyes.
“Oh baby,” Jae coos, and Dowoon buries his face again, embarrassed that they noticed. Dowoon groans at the pet name, and Younghyun chuckles quietly,
“C’mon Dowoonie,” Younghyun must be the one that pries the pillow from Dowoon’s death grip, earning a glare from the drummer.
“There he is!” Younghyun grins, pinching Dowoon’s cheek, and Dowoon hides his face in his forearms. Younghyun sighs, and Dowoon feels the weight on the mattress move around. He can no longer tell where the bassist’s face is, so he jumps when Younghyun’s voice whispers directly in his ear.
“Baby.” Dowoon glares at the bassist, who holds his hands up defensively.
Jae takes this moment to distract Dowoon before he can hide again, pulling him into a sitting position and against his chest.
“Please hear us out baby,” Jae pleads, tilting his head to get on level with Dowoon. Dowoon nods silently, and Younghyun cheers quietly.
“I’m sorry that I didn’t ask if you were okay,” Jae looks so guilty that Dowoon tears up again, hiding his face in the guitarist’s shirt. A hand that isn’t Jae’s pets Dowoon’s back softly, which makes him cry harder. Jae kisses Dowoon’s hair, swaying him back and forth slightly.
“I’m sorry that I got mad, I just wanted to help you,” Younghyun whispers behind Dowoon’s back, leaning his chin on Dowoon’s hunched shoulders. Dowoon curls in on himself even further, shaking with each stuttering breath.
“I’m sorry,” Dowoon stutters into Jae’s chest, and they both shush him immediately.
“Baby no,” Jae starts.
“We understand,” Younghyun finishes, wrapping his arms around Dowoon and Jae, sandwiching the drummer.
They cuddle in silence for a little longer, only broken by Dowoon’s hiccuping breaths and quiet sobs. When he’s no longer shaking in their arms, Jae leans back slightly, wiping Dowoon’s cheeks with his thumbs.
“Can we check on your scabs baby? We just want to make sure they aren’t infected,” Jae promises, cradling Dowoon’s face. Younghyun has himself plastered to Dowoon’s back, and Dowoon looks between their faces, slightly worried.
“Just us, okay? You won’t have to show hyung or Pil,” Younghyun offers, holding out a pinky for Dowoon to take. Dowoon chews on his lip, but ends up wrapping his pinky around Younghyun’s anyway.
“Thank you darling.”
They rearrange themselves so Dowoon is leaning against the wall, and they sit beside him on each side. Jae holds Dowoon’s right hand while Younghyun leans back slightly to give Dowoon space.
“Do you want me to?” Younghyun offers, tilting his head, and Dowoon nods shyly. Dowoon shuts his eyes tightly as Younghyun’s fingers snag the waistband of his pajama pants, and he obediently moves to help Younghyun slip them off. Dowoon knows that his boxers cover the majority except for one or two that trail down his thigh, and so when Younghyun halts, Dowoon peeks out to see two slightly embarrassed hyungs.
“Dowoon you can uh, choose what to do here,” Younghyun offers, refraining from putting his hands back on Dowoon.
It’s slightly amusing to see Younghyun so flustered, usually the smoothest one in the group, but Dowoon shyly slides down his boxers just enough to show the majority of the burns on his hip bones. Dowoon hears a stifled inhale from Jae, and Younghyun leans slightly closer to inspect the wounds. Some of them are dark red and almost healed, while some of them are still yellow and unpopped from the night before. Dowoon hides the top of his groin with a hand, and Younghyun braves sliding the fabric down slightly more. The fabric of the boxer legs are scrunched up on either side, exposing the new and old blisters.
“Oh honey,” Younghyun whispers, fingers close to Dowoon’s skin. Dowoon knows the two older men are upset, without them saying so, but he feels mostly uncomfortable with the proximity to his crotch.
“Can I put my pants back on?” Dowoon squeaks, and they’re quick to agree, averting their eyes so Dowoon can sort out his clothes. Dowoon avoids eye contact, fiddling with his fingers as Younghyun and Jae have some sort of silent conversation.
“They don’t look infected, at least,” Younghyun mutters under his breath, leaning against Dowoon’s side. The older man buries his face in the crook of Dowoon’s neck, his breath giving the drummer goosebumps. Jae once again takes hold of Dowoon’s hand, holding it with both of his.
“Just keep them clean,” Jae finishes, leaning his forehead on Dowoon’s shoulder to parallel Younghyun. Dowoon lets them take comfort in holding him, staring at the wall across the room.
“Dowoon,” Jae starts, and Dowoon hums to show he’s paying attention.
“Will you please see a doctor for this?” If Dowoon had more mental energy, maybe he’d have argued against the idea, but he’s tired and so he nods silently.
“Good,” Younghyun exhales against Dowoon’s neck.
“Thank you baby,” Jae smiles, and Dowoon wishes he could return the smile more than just a slight tug at his lips. Jae doesn’t falter at the weak reaction, instead reaching around to flick Younghyun.
“Yah, what?” Younghyun grumbles, tilting his head from where his chin digs into Dowoon’s shoulder.
“Let’s lie down for a bit, until Bob forces us to have lunch,” Jae nudges at Dowoon’s shoulder, effectively shoving Younghyun with the movement. Younghyun grumbles something under his breath but slides away from the wall, pouting as he climbs under Dowoon’s blanket. Dowoon is ushered under the blankets by both men, Younghyun raising the blankets and Jae’s soft nudges wrapping him in warmth. Jae basically flops down the wall on his side, once again sandwiching the drummer between the two.
“Thank you hyungs,” Dowoon mumbles as Younghyun wraps an arm around his back, pulling him against his chest. Jae curls up closer, nuzzling into the back of Dowoon’s neck.
“You don’t have to thank us baby,” Jae hushes, wrapping his long arms around the two.
“We love you Dowoonie,” Younghyun pouts, kissing Dowoon’s forehead with a disgustingly wet smooch. Dowoon feigns disgust, but quickly they all dissolve into quiet giggles.
“I love you too hyungs,” Dowoon whispers, allowing himself to melt under the affection of the two. The gaping hole in his chest still sits empty, but between the arms of Younghyun and Jae, he allows himself to imagine they’re holding him together.