Chapter Text
With his forehead resting on the studio table, Jisung groans.
“It’s been three days,” he says. “No one’s gonna call.”
Chan glances up at Jisung from his psychology notes. “You don’t have to be here, you know.”
“But Changbin’s here!” Jisung whines, raising his head and throwing out his arm to gesture at Changbin, who stands at the end of the table.
Fiddling with his recording equipment, Changbin scoffs. “That’s ‘cus I actually have something to do. You’re just here to slack off.”
“Am not.” Jisung pouts, but he doesn’t argue any further. His essay due date is creeping closer, and he can’t deny he’d rather be working on anything but that.
Chan puts his pencil down. “Are you sure you want to be here for the actual interviews, Jisung? I thought you hated listening to — and I quote — ‘sob stories’.”
“You guys are like my only friends,” Jisung says. “If I’m not here with you then the only other option is being alone with my thoughts, and that’s never a good idea.”
Nodding, Chan rolls his chair over to Jisung’s side of the table. He puts one hand on Jisung’s back and pats it soothingly. “Glad to have you here, buddy. I know you don’t like talking about breakups.”
“Ugh, don’t get me started.” Jisung groans again, folding his arms on the table and hiding his face within them.
Chan’s hand stills.
“Speaking of… we still need our first volunteer”
Jisung peeks up at Chan. “No.”
“C’mon,” Chan goads, “you fit all the requirements!”
Straightening in his seat, Jisung glares Chan down. “No! You just said you know I don’t like talking about that stuff.”
Chan nods again, acknowledging his hypocrisy.
Changbin shrugs. “It might be good for you.”
“No. No way in hell.”
A small box arrives at your door on a non-descript afternoon. It is crudely wrapped with a creased ribbon, and the addresses are written by hand. Not expecting a package, you are hesitant to open it, but you do. Inside is an old mp3 player and a twisted pair of earbuds.