Chapter Text
“ Here's 10 Reasons Why You Love Levanter, Even If You Don’t Know It Yet.”
Trust me. After reading this, you’ll be just as whipped as the rest of us.
Written by Park Seonghwa
Kim Seungmin wakes up on Friday and knows only two things:
- He hates Han Jisung.
- He hates Han Jisung’s band.
You may be thinking: why, Seungmin, hate is a strong word!
It isn’t. Hate is thrown around so often, it no longer holds the same weight as a word like love , which is a word millions of songs try to decipher, to depict, along with all its intricate meanings. Hate is hate. Any hate song is the same, encapsulating fire, ash, and boiling vats of rage in song and lyric. Hate is simple, just a word with one meaning.
And to put things simply, Kim Seungmin hates Han Jisung, the very man laid on the floor beside his bed, the result of a petty fight over territory in the hotel room. Jisung lost, so he sleeps on the floor, in a small sleeping bag.
Does Seungmin feel bad for making him lay there? Yes, but not because Jisung slept there. He feels bad because his grandmother taught him better than to make guests sleep on the floor.
“Han?” He calls into the early morning’s darkness, fully expecting some lackluster response. Or perhaps no response at all.
“Kim.” A whisper is returned, barely audible, yet rough from the early hours. “Good morning.”
“I'm sorry you had to sleep on the floor.” He says, sincerely. If they could just be civil, this arrangement would go over smoothly, and Seungmin could get back home, where Jisung, at the very least, is several tens of miles away.
Jisung scoffs, and Seungmin can hear him rustling against the nylon of the mat. “No, you’re not sorry. I wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor if you weren’t so pissy about the bed.”
Seungmin’s ears burn hot. “I was not being pissy .”
“Yes. Yes, you were.”
He sits up from the floor, and Seungmin watches his tousled bed head peek up over the side of the bed, his eyes are shielded by his bangs, but it’s obvious where his gaze is.
“I was fine sharing, we could’ve put pillows between us, if you’re really that insistent on having this…distance.” He grabs his phone from the nightstand behind him, and begins scrolling.
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting space. Besides,” Seungmin slips out of bed, and into his slippers, stretching. “You wanted to take the floor.”
“I did not,” With a humorless laugh that grates on Seungmin’s nerves, Jisung shuts off his phone. “I wanted to sleep . And I couldn’t until you stopped arguing with me.”
“Then you can sleep on the bed tonight. I really don’t care.” And then, “Can we just… not fight right now?” A migraine fights to the front of his head, making his skill pound harsher than it does sitting next to bass-boosted speakers. And, yes, Seungmin’s knows what that’s like from experience.
Seungmin makes his way to the bathroom made for two, regretting waking up. Internally, he wishes the highest form of punishment upon management, who landed them in one room together for the next week. He grabs his toiletry bag from his suitcase and leaves.
The bathroom was fit with two sinks on a long, uncluttered counter, at least six feet between each other. Looking into the mirror, which covered the expanse of the wall over the counter, he notices the bags under his eyes, and the frown that never quite left his face since last night. Maybe it never left.
If public relations got their hands on a picture of his expression right now, he knows Twitter would be all over it. Kim Seungmin burnt out? One article would read. Kim Seungmin sad; perhaps he’s leaving the industry? Kim Seungmin angry? Kim Seungmin might be in a scandal? Kim Seungmin unhappy in his relationship?
Knowing the current, real headlines that rule the internet, he knows the latter is more likely. He uncaps the toothpaste, and wets his toothbrush.
Had he known, way back in December of last year, being seen in a set of pictures with Han Jisung on News Years Eve would spiral into this — Seungmin wouldn’t have listened to Felix and Hyunjin. He would’ve been home with his sister and parents. Maybe his grandmother too.
But, alas, the camera snapped, capturing their smiling faces and locked arms as the clock ticked down to the new year, framed by red and purple fireworks. How did they even end up that close, that friendly? Such an idea seems impossible, currently. Seungmin, spits into the sink, and begins his skin care routine.
He needed someone to blame. Easiest would’ve Han Jisung, but despite his greatest wishes—
Knock knock.
“Kim,” He calls, voice muffled by the door. “What’s taking you?”
“Come in,” He answers. “I’m decent, just washing my face.”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude on your space .” Even through the heavy, wooden door, Seungmin Can still hear the sarcasm. They really weren’t done with this?
“Then stay out there and wait. Make yourself late. I do not care.”
Despite his greatest urges to stab a toothbrush down his throat, he can’t blame Han Jisung. It’s neither of their faults. Just poor circumstances.
The media liked their photos, so much so that even non fans took interest. Naturally, that roped in sales for both their bands, and, all of the sudden, both their fan bases doubled, tripled, and even quadrupled in size.
Han Jisung and Kim Seungmin: Hottest Couple In The Industry.
New Year’s Party Of The Ages: Levanter’s Kim Seungmin and Yellow Wood’s Han Jisung Suspected To Be In A Relationship.
After Seeing This Photo Set, You’ll See Why We All Ship Han Jisung of Yellow Wood and Kim Seungmin of Lavanter.
Those articles, being most notable, were not the only ones written. Many of their fans refuted the articles, called them invasive, and requested for some semblance of privacy, which was impossible on the internet.
Their situation isn’t the articles’ fault, either. Neither is it their fanbases’.
Seungmin opens the bathroom door, only to see Jisung kneeling before his suitcase, flinging clothes around like the hotel is his home. When the door opens, he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even look.
“What are you doing?” Seungmin asks, after a minute of standing in the doorway.
“Looking.”
“For what? You’re making a mess.”
“My toothbrush.”
Okay, gross . He pulls a face. “Why is your toothbrush mixed in with your clothes?”
“It’s whatever, I put it in a ziploc bag.” Then, after no response from Seungmin, Jisung pauses. “Okay, ew. Did you really think I just threw it in here, naked?”
Well, with how messy the area around Jisung’s luggage has become in the ten minutes Seungmin was in the bathroom, the thought isn't hard to believe.
“Well, I put it in a ziploc, and now it’s gone.” He turns to Seungmin. “You don’t think I could use yours?” At the look that is surely pasted on his face, Jisung smiles. “I’m kidding.”
Of course he is. Seungmin rolls his eyes and says, “If you really lost it, we can go to the store and get another.”
“But,” Han frowns, lips jutting out in a pout. “Morning breath.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have lost your toothbrush.”
It’s meant to be joking, a lighthearted jab, as Seungmin is far beyond the point of any arguing, but Jisung sours faster than he had last night.
“Sorry, we can’t all be perfect and organized and nit-picky as you.”
Seungmin is far too tired. He snatches his phone from the couch beside the bed and storms out of the hotel room. It’s only until he’s knocking down Felix’s door that he realizes he never changed out of his pajamas.
“Yellow Wood vs Levanter: Our Next Generation of K-Bands”
Bang Chan and Lee Minho form their own bands, which have quickly risen to fame in the KPop industry.
Written by Kim Hongjoong
“It sort of sounds like you guys’re being a bit dramatic.”
Felix’s hands push and prod between Seungmin’s shoulders, relaxing the terse muscles with each press. Hands like magic, Hyunjin used to say, when he still performed with them. You're an angel, Felix.
“No,” Seungmin groans, feeling a bit like putty. “It sounds like we need to talk to management.”
He quickly switches to soft hand chops that land down his spine, on his trapezius, and across his already-limp shoulders. A moan can’t help but escape, and Felix giggles.
“You’re always so tense, nerd. What’s up with that?”
“You missed your calling, Lix.” The swift chops stutter voice. “You should’ve been a masseuse. Are you so good because you’re a drummer? Spill it.”
“Nope,” He pops the P. “Just surrounded by people who are too stressed for their own good.”
“Well, I can name a few people who are rightfully stressed at the moment.” Seungmin pouts. If he thinks back to last night, he shudders and gets covered in goose pimples.
“Right, but the stress is very easy to get rid of if you would just talk out whatever problems you have.”
Felix slows his hands until they completely stop, leaving Seungmin’s back buzzing from the constant contact. Giving him two pats on the back for good measure, he slips from his spot and into Seungmin’s empty arms, purring like a cat.
Back before Hyunjin left, Felix always cuddled up to him, claiming the “taller the better”, in regards to the question of why do you always cuddle Hyunjin. He never complained or argued; just let Felix lay on him like a mattress. Without Hyunjin, and with the appearance of Jeongin, he settled on Seungmin, as he was now the tallest.
“Yknow, Jisung really isn't that bad.”
“Please don’t say that in front of me.”
“Yes, can be a bit abrasive, loud, boisterous, overwhelming—“ He pauses, maybe struggling to find any good qualities in Jisung.
Seungmin smiles, feeling as though he’s won somehow. “He’s petty, too.”
“Sure,” Felix shakes his head. “Okay. But he’s actually nice, and funny, and talented as hell—”
Seungmin offhandedly throws out, “What, you got a crush or something?”
“ Seungmin…” he scolds, and reminds Seungmin of his mother, chastising him for stepping out of line.
“Okay, sorry, but you’re trying awfully hard to convince me that Jisung is perfect.”
“Not perfect. But not completely bad, either.” Felix sighs and sits up smacking his chest, rubbing it soothingly when Seungmin yelps in pain. “He’s a good person, behind his façade. You need more friends, Min.”
Feeling indignant, he huffs, “I have as many as I’ll ever need.”
That earns him an eye roll, and, “You're such a Virgo.”
“So are you?”
“Come on, Stubborn.” Dragging them to Felix’s hotel room exit, he says, “You need to change into real clothes.”
“Yellow Wood: A Five Paragraph, MLA Formatted Essay On Why I’d Marry Them.”
I am serious. From the picture, you see they are extremely attractive.
Written by Jung Wooyoung
Felix doesn’t quite accompany him to his room, receiving a text from jeongin that needs help dying his hair. In a natural attempt to avoid any contact with the devil in his room, Seungmin offers his own assistance too, but both Felix and Jeongin adamantly refuse, especially jeongin, who says something about not trusting Seungmin with his hair.
Which, wow, okay, Seungmin can take a hint and figure out when he is unwanted. No need to rub it in.
But, on that stream of thought, Jeongin has never liked his presence, a fact that became clear the second he and Seungmin first talked one-on-one. At first, he just assumed Jeongin was an introvert, which was fine, Seungmin could lead their conversations.
But Jeongin bonded almost immediately with the other two, and refused to accept any of the lines Seungmin threw out. Maybe they simply couldn’t bond. It happens, and he’s accepted it. But it still bugs him, a fact that sours his mood when his mind passes over their youngest.
Seungmin, still bitter, and probably not in the best state to take on Jisung, knocks three times.
“Jisung-ssi?” He calls, pressing an ear to the smooth, grey painted door.
“Who dares knocketh upon thine door?”
Seungmin rolls his eyes. “It’s me. And you’re using ‘thine’ wrong.”
“Who is this ‘me’?”
“Han,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t be annoying. I’m coming in, whether you’re naked or not.”
The door beeps as it accepts the keycard, and he pushes the door open with his shoulder. He isn’t ready to confront what's inside.
Seungmin jaw drops.
“Hi.”
Hwang Hyunjin is seated on the bed, back stick straight and hands folded in his lap. His eyes are jumpy, flitting everywhere but Seungmin’s face, like a frog jumping between lily pads.
“Nice PJ’s,” he comments.
Two whole years. That idea settles in as soon as the image of Hyunjin is burned into his eyes. Two whole years, since their band celebrated their first anniversary. Two years since the article nobody anticipated the next week.
Levanter’s bassist Hwang Hyunjin departs after one year of his five year contract.
In an instant, Seungmin is booted off of guitar and is put on bass, and Yang Jeongin joins as the new guitarist.
Minho cancelled practice for a whole week, Felix tried to reach out to the band through their group chat with a positive message, and Seungmin… Seungmin played.
He spent hours in a small recording booth, fingers moving across a fretboard, commiting the instrument to muscle memory. Each slide of his fingers against the fret board filled him with… something. Maybe it was rage. Maybe it was frustration. He shouldn’t be playing bass. Hyunjin should.
Hyunjin looks good now, Seungmin notes. Long, blonde hair suits him.
Of course, Seungmin knew Hyunjin joined Yellow Wood. Although, he never bothered to investigate, finding that wasn’t his problem to do so.
Hyunjin’s involvement in this Han situation is only the icing on the cake.
“What do you need?” Seungmin says, clipped.
Hyunjin smiles at him, and his eyes still crinkle in the same way, even when the smile isn’t genuine.
“Nothing,” he says. “Just wanted to drop by your guy’s room.”
“Ah.”
Seungmin didn’t know what to say. Any words he had wanted to say, any questions he wanted to ask, all died with their friendship.
There’s no way their relationship could be classified as friends. They didn’t really have a relationship at all anymore.
Hyunjin twiddles his thumbs, something he only did during interviews and fan meets. Was this a meeting for him? Just a necessary interaction between two strangers?
“Well,” Seungmin sighs. “I hope you’re done looking.”
Flustered, Hyunjin stammers, “Well, I suppose, though your room is a bit bigger than Changbin and I’s room, you even have a couch—”
“Hyunjin-ssi.”
The formality slips out, something he’d never done, even when he first met Hyunjin as a trainee.
Hyunjin bites his tongue, stopping his rant in its tracks.
“Right,” he whispers, standing almost mechanically. “I’m sorry, I overstayed.”
Seungmin steps aside, giving Hyunjin more than enough room to walk past, pressing himself against the short hallway leading into the room. Only when the door clicks shut does Seungmin finally move, finally breathe again.
He flops down on the bed, the mattress bouncing with his weight. Nothing has felt nicer than his body sinking into the bed.
“Wow,” a voice in front of him whispers, and oh— Seungmin completely forgot Jisung was here, draped over the couch’s armrest. “That was awkward.”
Seungmin ignores him, “When are we going to the store?”
Jisung barrels on. “So, you’re just a plain old dick, and it’s not just reserved for me?”
With a sigh, Seungmin pinches the bridge of his nose. He feels a migraine building at the base of his temples.
“Do you know anything?” He asks. “About me and Hyunjin?”
“No, nothing about you—“
“Then, you should think before you speak.”
Jisung scowls. “I know Hyunjin, though. He’s my best friend.”
(“So, Seungmin-ssi, who would you say is your best friend amongst your band members?”
“Oh no, I can't answer this. Minho’ll have me gutted if I don’t say him.”
“Damn right I will.”
“But, if I had to choose, I’d have to say Hyunjin. He was my first friend when Levanter was formed, and has always been especially kind to me. We’ve never argued or fought, and I really cherish him for— oh, come on, I can see your ego inflating from here.”
“I’m just so happy, Minnie, I might start sobbing.”)
Jisung continues. “He misses you, y’know.”
“Save it.” Seungmin growls, resisting the urge to claw at his arms until they’re red. He’s not ready to let Jisung undo all the work it took to close the gap Hyunjin left in his heart.
“I’m serious.” Jisung stands from the couch, taking a step closer to where Seungmin is sitting.
“So am I.”
“You’re awful.”
“So are you.”
“He’s literally apologized .”
“And that should mean something to me?” He knows he’s yelling, way too loud for their hotel. Some sick part of him hopes Hyunjin heard. Hopes he knows the damage he’s left.
Here, Jisung gives up, scoffing while flopping back onto the couch.
After a moment, Seungmin hums. “If he was truly sorry? He’d tell us why he left.”
At this, Jisung raises a brow, but still avoids eye contact. “What do you mean?”
“He left us with no warning. We learned about his departure through an article.” Then, raising his voice again, he says, “He never said goodbye, he never gave a reason, he never asked us for help— he just up and left.”
“Did you ever try to ask him why he left?” Jisung tries, desperate.
“We shouldn’t have had to ask.” Seungmin argues. “Something like that, he should’ve told us himself.”
“And what if he couldn’t?”
“And why would that be? We trusted each other, Jisung.” He's getting defensive, a temper he’s been trying to tamper down now rising to the surface. “He should’ve told us. The article helped no one. It told us nothing.”
Jisung mumbled something under his breath, folds his arms.
“What was that?”
“I said,” he sits up, and stares Seungmin dead in the eyes. “No wonder he left Levanter.”
And, Seungmin…
Seungmin wants to shout. He wants to scream, to cry at Jisung and shout and yell and holler and leave.
He wants to call off the publicity dating. There is no way in hell he could spend an eight-week world tour with the man who has the audacity to think it’s okay to talk about shit like he understands it.
They stare at each other and the conversation is dropped.
Seungmin grabs his clothes and enters the bathroom to change, finally leaving the stifling atmosphere of the hotel room.
“I Battled My Coworker For This Article Topic And Won: Let’s Review Lee Minho’s Interview”
Lee Minho of Levanter shares what he can about his band, romance, their lives, and future plans.
Written by Park Seonghwa
The time is 1 o'clock in the afternoon when Jisung finally decides he wants to leave the hotel room for the convenience store. Seungmin tagged along, only because he knew that tomorrow, he’d have little to no time between practices and their night concert, unless he wanted to wake up early. And lord knows he wouldn’t survive waking up before 10AM.
Before they left, their managers gave them specific instructions:
- Always keep up appearances. Cameras are everywhere. You never know who’s watching and who’s just walking by.
- Don’t fight. Malice and hostility shine a negative light on the company, and your groups.
- Try and act like a couple, or else knowing onlookers might become suspicious.
- Don’t. Fight. Period.
So far, they’ve completed 1, 2, and 4.
Seungmin wanders through aisles, lights of the gas station blinding. Everything on the shelves looks unappetizing, to say the least. They don’t even have hot Cheetos. He grabs a few snacks of different types, sparing a thought to what Jisung might want after he’s picked out several candy bags.
Glancing down aisles and over products, he finally spots him, making what he can only identify as an abomination of a slushie, a layer of blueberry at the bottom, and then every other flavor in the machine until he gets to the Cola flavor at the top of the cup. Jisung finishes his creation off with the cherry flavor until it almost spills out of the straw hole.
Looks like he didn’t need a snack.
“Jisung-ssi,” Seungmin taps his shoulder with his pinkie, both hands full of snacks. Jisung turns around, big eyes looking up at him. “Are you ready?”
He glances at Seungmin’s snack assortment and takes an unpaid sip of his slushie-monster. “Did you get Hershey’s Kisses like I asked?”
“No,” Seungmin says, carefully. “You never asked for them.”
Jisung glares. “I did! Right before you ran away from me, I asked!”
Seungmin looks up in time to see a woman and son glance over, attention caught by Jisung’s loud tone.
“Whatever!” Seungmin hisses, eyes panicked. He whispers, “Let’s not fight in public, I’ll just go get some, it’s fine.”
Rule 1 and 4 are shattered instantly.
Jisung grumbles what might’ve been an answer, but Seungmin stalks away too fast for him to hear. He heads back to where he once was, in the snack aisle. It doesn’t take long for the chocolate section to catch his eye, much less the Hershey’s Kisses. He snatches a bag off its hook and combines it with the rest of his purchases.
They converge in the short line by the cashier, and this time Jisung has grabbed what looks to be a small yellow box of medication. Dramamine , it reads.
“You get motion sickness?” Seungmin asks, mostly to fill space.
“Yeah. What about it?” The defensive tone returns as he squints.
He raises his hands in surrender. “Nothing. Just curious, since Minho takes the same stuff before plane rides.”
Minho never truly found a way to deal with heights, like being on the roofs of tall buildings, and the problem only worsens 10,000 feet in air. He remembers their first tour, where Minho wouldn’t leave the restroom until a flight attendant had to kick him out, only to find him hunched over the toilet, completely sick. For the rest of the flight, and every flight after, he takes Dramamine and brings a doggie bag.
“Long car rides make me sick, so you can imagine why I’ll need it now.” Seungmin nods, understanding.
They stand in silence. Seungmin doesn’t know what to say in these spaces, between arguing and clipped interactions where they can’t do anything but coexist, in a semblance of peace. Usually, he can take awkward silences, but now, when there’s nothing to say, it makes him restless. The heck out line moves at a snail's pace
Perhaps Jisung feels the same, when he asks, “What all did you get?”
Seungmin shrugs, holding his collection out for them to see. “Uhm, a family size bag of Ruffles—“
“Mm, good choice.”
He pauses, scans Jisung’s face for any sign of sarcasm, but he comes up with nothing.
“Okay, I also got gummies, Skittles, Hi-Chews—“
“Ooh, what flavor?”
“Green Apple.”
“Nice.” Jisung, slowly, with his free hand, threads his arm through Seungmin’s elbows, hooking them together. “Thanks, babe.”
Seungmin freezes, mentally steps back, and asks the question: What? His eyes ask the question for him, as he stares at Jisung incredulously.
Look outside, he mouths, jerking his head to the side, and when Seungmin does look, he sees two people with cameras. Immediately, he averts his eyes, and clears his throat, ears warm from the attention.
Rule number 3. Check!
“Well, explain your disgusting-looking slushie to me.”
Jisung does so, very easily, wildly gesticulating about this video he saw, where a guy goes to a drink fountain and goes down the line of fountain drinks to create what he calls a graveyard . Seungmin only half listens, giving a hum occasionally in response as he pays for everything.
When they exit the store, Jisung pauses. “Fuck, you paid for it all.”
“That I did.” They walk down the street, crossing after a second of waiting.
“I'll pay you back. How much was it?” He fishes his wallet out of his ripped jeans’s front pocket, sifting through it with one hand.
“It was free.” Seungmin deadpans. “You don’t need to owe me anything.”
“But I do,” Jisung pouts, but at least he puts away his wallet. “My eomma didn’t raise no leech.”
“You’re not leeching ,” Seungmin scoffs. “I just happened to be the one that paid.”
When Jisung’s still pouty, Seungmin sighs. Then, he gets an idea.
“You could pay me back by buying one of our albums.” He smiles. “I’m thinking, Ex ?”
Ex, being their latest album. Many sleepless nights were spent writing for it, especially by Minho and Felix. Seungmin remembers falling asleep at the late hour of 2 or 3AM, fingers bandaged and throat sore from practicing for hours on end. Looking back, the process seemed like torture, sleeping for a few hours, practicing, writing, break time, then back to practicing. But he wouldn’t have traded that time for the world.
“Only if you buy ZONE .”
Seungmin gapes. “I can’t be seen with a Yellow Wood album .”
“I bet it’s worse to be seen with a Levanter album.” Jisung muses, purposefully avoiding eye contact.
No wonder he left Levanter.
Words from earlier, probably meant to hurt without any real idea of the weight they hold.
No wonder he left Levanter.
“Sorry.” Jisung sniffs.
“I despise you.”
“Feeling’s mutual. Hey, I’ll strike you a deal.” They stop where they’re supposed to wait for their driver. “I will buy Ex if you buy ZONE. ”
Seungmin contemplates, tapping his finger against his lip. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t wanna see my precious album in the hands of the likes of you.” He growls, and hopes it hurts
“Oh,” Jisung says, and they go quiet. The rest of the ride is spent in silence, but Seungmin’s mind is still buzzing uncontrollably.
Pretending to date isn't hard. It’s not natural, anything they do, and they still fight, but he was never really worried about their acting in the first place. It’s his own impulse that worries him.
Temper control… isn’t Seungmin’s strong suit. But he’s working on it! And it’s hard, when you’re stuck with the one person you hate.
“Look,” Jisung sighs, shifting awkwardly in his seat. “I’m actually sorry. About the shit I said earlier.”
A second passes. Maybe two.
“I'm sorry too.” Seungmin hums.
Seungmin slides the keycard over the locks, which clicks and grants him entry into his hotel room.
The first concert of their combined tour starts in an hour, and Han Jisung is missing. Why? He has no idea.
The day starts, and so does the chaos. Concert days are simply longer than others. The day starts four hour earlier, lasts five hours more, and ends three hours later.
At 7AM, Seungmin wakes up on the ground, back horribly sore from the unforgiving floor. Felix is there, and tells Seungmin that Jisung apparently woke up at 4, which, what the fuck.
“Minho wants us for practice,” He throws all the strength he has into a shove that has him aching in his shoulder, and lasts until he’s sat down in the studio.
That leads him to rehearsal. They rented out a fairly pricey studio, and yet, the soundproofing still ends up being shit. Throughout the whole practice, which Minho insisted on whining about, Yellow Wood’s playing could be heard perfectly through the walls. Their music isn’t bad, Seungmin notes. But he can’t call it good. His brain won’t let him.
Minho pouts halfway through their set list and bangs in the wall, making shelves tremble from the force. Their song pauses, a beat passes, and they resume playing , this time louder. Seungmin has no doubt that’s Jisung’s influence.
“Yah, Kim,” Minho groans, plucking a short tube on his guitar. “Tell your boyfriend to shut it.”
“Oh, c’mon, hyung,” He frowns. On instinct, he starts tuning his bass. “You know he won’t listen to me.”
The rest of practice becomes more or less of a battle, trying to see who can annoy the other band by playing too loud through the walls. There’s no winner, per say, but Seungmin has a throbbing headache and a vendetta against a squirrel-boy by the end of it.
In no time at all, the clock strikes 6PM, and all eight of them are being stuffed into vans, chauffeured to the venue.
“Dedicate a song to him.” Jeongin grins, Seungmin glares him into silence.
The venue isn't huge , but it exceeds Seungmin expectations by a longshot, for at the very least, ten thousand people are seated in the stands, Levanter and Yellow Wood fans alike already scattered around, chattering excitedly amongst each other.
Backstage feels just as loud, with staff bustling around the area yelling at people to move, makeup staff sitting each of the performers in chairs and working their magic. Yellow Wood and Levanter get separated into two booths, and Seungmin quickly gets pulled aside by a makeup noona and sits in a chair, facing a mirror.
When Minho texts him, only a minute or two after he notices the staff around Yellow Wood’s booth go wild, saying that Han Jisung went missing, and no one knows where he is.
Felix pulls him aside with Jeongin, eyes wide and frantic.
“They’re threatening to postpone the show,” he hisses out in one breath.
Jeongin, from beside him, glowers and nods. “They mentioned cancelling it a few times, too.”
Seungmin's eyebrows shoot up, and he stands from his chair. “Seriously?”
Felix’s rushed nods say so much more than just ‘yes’.
“Where was last seen?” Seungmin asks, already throwing a coat.
Changbin, Yellow Wood’s drummer, comes up behind them.
“He was on the bus when we last saw him,” he says, eyes dark. “But right after, he disappeared. We think he might’ve gone back to the hotel.”
Changbin holds out a hand to him, and he understands, but doesn’t hand over the keycard.
Instead, he asks, “Why would he leave?”
Changbin only shakes his head, face stony. Seungmin groans, storming off.
He hates Han Jisung.
In the blink of an eye, Seungmin is taking an Uber from the concert venue to the hotel, aggressively texting the number Jisung put in his phone.
Where are you?
✓
Why aren’t you reading
anyone’s messages?
✓
Are you at the hotel?
✓
I’m in the room now. Please
respond when you read this.
✓✓
Bastard.
✓
Seungmin dares a laugh, shutting off his phone. “Bitch.” He grumbles, and sprints from the car once they arrive.
The receptionist seems surprised to see him, probably due to his frazzled state, hair tousled and outfit is all sorts of disarray. The lobby is fairly empty, with no crowds to push through as Seungmin jogs to the elevators.
The ride to their floor could not go fast enough.
Sure enough, as soon as he clicks the keycard into place, Han Jisung’s sat his pretty little behind on the floor in the center of the room, doing what clearly appears to be literally nothing. So, this is why Felix is panicking in a dressing room, and why Jeongin is so pissed on his very first world tour. So this is why.
“Jisung-ssi.” He calls, to no answer. He tries again. “Han.”
“Why are we doing this?”
He startles at the response, frozen at the room’s entrance. Jisung, who once had his back towards him, fully turns around, face long.
“Fuck this whole tour.” Jisung flops onto his back, pale and limp. “Fuck the dating. Fuck you.”
“Okay, angsty.” Taking a step forward, he pats Jisung's cheeks. “Stand up, we have a show.”
“Don’t wanna.”
“Don’t be such a child.”
Jisung continues to lay, a blissful smile on his face. If Seungmin squints and turns his head, he looks almost like a body resting peacefully in a coffin.
“Jisung.”
He rolls over, face crushed against the carpeted floor. Seungmin wants to choke him.
(Not really.)
“Jisung.”
Silence.
“ JISUNG! ”
“Okay, okay,” Jisung raises his hands, which, Seungmin notes, are trembling like leaves. “I’m going, I’m going.”
“What's going on, Jisung?” Seungmin asks incredulously, watching Jisung stand on equally shaky legs.
If he’s being truly honest, he looks like shit. If Seungmin’s hair's a mess, Jisung’s is worse. He looks like the embodiment of a tornado, sickly green and covered in a light sheen of sweat that makes Seungmin want to grab him a towel.
“Got a bit nervous,” he grumbles, trying his best to straighten out his loose button up, but the wrinkles still show.
“Nervous enough to go back to the hotel?” Seungmin cries. “Jisung, that’s not okay.”
“I know, I know it’s not,” he exhales, shaky. “Please not right now.”
Anxiety . Something clicks in Seungmin’s brain. Felix had anxiety, every single night before a show day, and he could barely breathe during those moments. Jisung has anxiety .
“Okay,” Seungmin whispers. “Will you be okay to go back? Your members are worried about you.”
Jisung’s head swivels too fast to be comfortable. They lock eyes as they leave the room.
“Yeah,” Jisung, slowly but surely, nods, bags under his eyes growing. “I’ll be fine.”
Found him.
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Shit really? Where????.!:!:$
At the hotel room. We’re coming back now.
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Can you tell yellow wood that we’re coming back?
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Holy fk yeah
Thanks Minho.
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