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Jihoon is sincerely, honestly, frankly, truly having a hard time.
He’s aware, of course. It’s not like he wants to have a hard time. He’s just…stuck. And his hard time has shitty timing, because it’s being made ten times harder by the fact that they’re filming for three whole days of TTT, and there’s nowhere to go. No respite from the cameras, no privacy, and no time or place quiet enough to sort through things on his own.
He just needs to be alone with his thoughts. And his feelings. And maybe a pillow to scream and/or cry into, if the mood suits him. He’s certain he’d feel better then.
Knowing it’s TTT in particular only makes it worse. It’s the most anticipated, exciting, ridiculous, and fun episode of Going Seventeen that comes but once a year, and Carats look forward to it just as much as the members themselves. It’s supposed to be a relaxing time—healing, some might say. Enjoyable for the whole team, Carats included.
And Jihoon knows he’s ruining it with an attitude he can’t seem to shake.
The worst thing is, he also knows why.
Sort of.
Before they’d left, he’d been in the midst of a slump. A writing slump. A composing slump. A ‘sitting in the studio, staring at the ceiling, counting specks on the tiles’ kind of slump. It’s not the worst he’s ever dealt with, and he knows he’ll escape the grips of writer’s block eventually, but it’s just…
At its core, the issue began as more of an external one. Jihoon will forever be grateful to the company for giving him the opportunity to do what he loves, but occasionally the relationship feels…out of synch. Inspiration comes in brilliant bursts just as much as it is the result of hard work, and he sometimes wonders if anyone actually understands that. The emails are the worst—closely followed by the phone calls and texts. A combination of arbitrary deadlines (‘We’ll begin concept discussions starting on the ninth, so have something prepared by then’) and company expectations (‘We’re concerned about the title track, so for revisions—’) and endless, endless, pointlessly nagging questions (‘Woozi-ssi, when will you be submitting something for review?’)
(‘No pressure.’)
It all has him more stressed than he’s felt in a while.
With that weighing on his shoulders, he’d started out right at the beginning of the trip already in something of a mood. And it hadn’t taken long for that to spill over into his treatment of his groupmates.
Everyone drank last night—their first night out under the stars. It was to be expected. As usual, TTT is a chance to let loose and enjoy their mini break to its fullest. Drinking and general merrymaking shouldn’t have been a big deal. It wouldn’t have been a big deal, if Jihoon hadn’t turned it into one.
But the drinking games had started almost immediately, and Jihoon really wasn’t interested. He was tired—he’d said as much at least four times—but ultimately allowed himself to be cajoled into it, both for the good of the show and the chance to attempt to unwind for ten minutes.
Of course, he’d quickly lost. He usually wouldn’t consider himself a sore loser (not the sorest loser, anyway). He probably would have taken the drink and been done with it, because fair is fair—but the instantaneous teasing had really...
“Aha~ Jihoonie has to do a shot~” “You’re off your game tonight, hyung~” “Don’t lose if you don’t want the penalty~” “Just this one, then Seungkwan will do all the drinking for you~” followed by several seconds of indignant sputtering from Seungkwan himself.
But Jihoon, temper flaring, suddenly decided he didn’t want to drink, period. He should never have let himself get roped into this. Drinking is a slippery slope that usually ends up with him sleeping on the bathroom floor. He knows he wouldn’t get that sick that quickly—but he just didn’t want to. He didn’t even want to play this game to begin with. Obviously there’s no way they could be expected to know that, but they’d just been so pushy that—
In his heart, he knows they would never pressure him into doing something he truly didn’t want to do. Even rowdy and drunk, they would never do anything to hurt him. They’ve all seen him miserable and sick in the aftermath of a night out, so it’s not like they don’t know, or that they wouldn’t believe him. He could have just calmly said “No.”
But for all his songwriting prowess, he’s never been good with words when he’s upset and put on the spot.
So he may have said a few more thing than “No.” A few things he didn’t mean—things that definitely won’t make it into the episode.
Nor will the footage of him storming off to bed.
Or not speaking to anyone at the eerily subdued breakfast table the next morning.
Brushing his teeth with no small amount of aggression, he’d told himself very firmly that he'd do better today. That his weird, pissy mood has zero place tagging along on their trip.
But now it’s barely past noon and he's already snapped at Soonyoung twice, Seungkwan once, and narrowly avoided the urge to outright shout at Mingyu over something completely stupid—among a dozen other transgressions.
He knows this is an unseemly side effect of weeks’ worth of stress, but even now, he really can’t pinpoint one single thing in particular that he’s so worked up about.
He hadn’t talked to anyone about it, like an idiot, so now his attitude is all the more surprising to the others. As much as he sometimes wishes they could, he can’t expect them to read his mind—to just intuitively know that he’s under pressure and this has nothing to do with them. But because he’s already acted like a jerk, everything is messier and more difficult to deal with.
Big picture-wise, he doesn’t know what to do. He needs time and space that he doesn’t have in order to unravel the backlog of work the company expects from him. He can’t sort it all out in the corner of a TTT rental house, no matter how much he’d like to. What he does know is that the members deserve better from him.
Before he can do anything about it on his own, though, Jeonghan pulls him aside.
He suspects his hyung had been sent on a reconnaissance mission by some concerned party. As loath as Jihoon is to admit it, Jeonghan has always been good at defusing his negative feelings.
“Everything okay?” he asks, tugging Jihoon to sit on a bench just outside the pavilion they’re heading into for lunch.
Jihoon nods, then shrugs, then shakes his head. Jeonghan somehow interprets this for what it is, pulling him in for a half hug, rubbing a hand firmly up and down his back.
"Not feeling good?" he surmises.
Another shrug. Jihoon presses his cheek harder into his hyung's chest, grounded by the solid warmth. “Just tired, I guess.” It’s the truth as much as it is a lie.
"Poor baby," Jeonghan coos—toeing the line between acceptable and annoying. “It is about comeback stuff?”
Jihoon nods, shrugs again, and his mouth finds the words before his brain even catches up. “Feels like I’m wasting time, filming this—I don’t know. Everything feels like I’m wasting time. And I feel bad, but I—I don’t know,” he takes a deep breath. “I have stuff to do. I can’t even think, and there’s just—so much. Everyone keeps telling me how much stuff I have to do, and…” He’s hit by a sudden intense wave of exhaustion, eyes falling shut as Jeonghan’s fingers come up to card through his hair.
"There’s a lot more stuff to do than just producing,” Jeonghan says, not unkindly. “This is part of the job, too—TTT. And everything else. Carats love to know we’re having fun. And everyone knows how hard you’re working. Stop torturing yourself.”
He hates that Jeonghan is right—how easily and effortlessly right Jeonghan is.
"M'not trying to…" he protests, surprising himself with the drowsy slurring of his own voice.
Jeonghan’s chest jumps with what might be a laugh. "Are you sleepy?”
"Mhm," he nods.
“What about hungry?”
Another nod, though he’s almost reluctant to admit it. He's comfortable, right here, for the first time since they’d arrived.
Then the hand that was rubbing his back turns to patting instead. “Let’s go eat, then you can nap.”
Jihoon feels like all the fight has left his body. He allows Jeonghan to pull him up, fingers laced together as he’s led into the restaurant. He tries not to pay attention to the eleven other pairs of eyes he can feel on himself when he enters the room, gaze kept downward as Jeonghan pushes him to sit on the bench beside Mingyu.
Mingyu nudges him gently with an elbow, smiles, and sets a heaping bowl of rice down in front of him.
There’s meat and noodles and rice and veggies in bowls piled high, but despite how hungry he is, Jihoon can’t bring himself to show much enthusiasm. He winds up relying on his seatmates to ensure he gets fed, loading up his plate with food and scooping extra rice into his bowl when he reaches the bottom.
He’s grateful for them. And he needs to apologize.
But he’s also so, so tired. The short talk on the bench with Jeonghan had hit him like a ton of bricks, and he feels the inevitable crash looming over his head.
Everyone is loud and excited at the end of the meal, planning how to spend the rest of their afternoons. With a steadier heart now, Jihoon doesn’t mind the noise, but he’s still not up to participating in the conversation.
It isn’t until most of the others have begun to shuffle out of the room that Mingyu turns to him and asks, “How do you feel, hyung?”
“Better,” Jihoon looks up at him. It’s true, although he’s ridiculously sleepy now that his stomach is full. “Sorry,” he apologizes lamely, knowing it isn’t enough.
“Why?” Mingyu sounds both bemused and slightly concerned, “Don’t be. You work too hard.”
That may be true, but, “Doesn’t give me the right to be an asshole.”
He wonders for a moment if he’d made the atmosphere awkward, but then Mingyu laughs. “Baby steps, hyung,” he compromises, grinning widely enough to ensure Jihoon knows he’s kidding. “C’mon,” Mingyu abruptly takes him by the hand, “Jeonghan-hyung said you should nap. Something about how being comfy is the cure for stress.” Jihoon smothers a perfectly-timed yawn into his sleeve, and Mingyu laughs. “Sounds like you could use it.”
Although he’s not sure he wants to get used to letting everyone lead him around like some sort of obedient puppy, Jihoon follows Mingyu back to the room they’re sharing with Soonyoung. He makes quick work of his shoes, swaps his jeans for comfy shorts, and climbs into bed. Mingyu tucks him in, and although it’s overkill, Jihoon feels nothing but contentedness when his giant idiot of a roommate leans over to plant a kiss on his forehead.
He should protest, make sure Mingyu knows that just because he’s stressed doesn’t mean everyone can suddenly do whatever they want. He’s a grown man. He doesn’t need to be babied.
But then a large, warm hand is rubbing circles on his chest, then his stomach, and Mingyu’s voice is so gentle when he says, “Sleep well,” that Jihoon can’t help but obey.
Jihoon figured he would sleep for at least a week, but it’s only nearing four pm when he awakens. He tries not to focus too hard on his puffy face in the bathroom mirror as he spends a good minute trying to flatten out his bedhead.
He shrugs. Gives up. It’s TTT, after all.
He doesn’t expect anyone to be around the house at this hour, which is a perfectly valid excuse for jumping a foot into the air when he suddenly hears a loud, “Hyung!” behind himself.
Seungkwan is jogging to catch up with him, having just emerged from his own shared room with Seokmin and Seungcheol. Jihoon stops, turns around, and realizes he should apologize for snapping at him, too.
“Seungkwan-ah,” he greets, trying to remember the specifics of what he’s even apologizing for. He feels a little better after sleeping, but his head is still spinning, and he’s embarrassed to admit that he’d acted childish over something so unimportant that he can’t even recall what it was about. Seungkwan stops in front of him, and he figures he should start somewhere. “Sorry for this morning. You didn’t do anything wrong, and—”
He’s quickly enveloped in a hug. A hug he did not ask for, and did not want, and yet…
“It’s okay, hyung,” Seungkwan insists, “I know you didn’t mean it.”
“I’m still sorry,” Jihoon responds, voice muffled in the front of Seungkwan’s shirt.
“I know,” Seungkwan gives him one more squeeze before pulling away. Jihoon would never admit it, but he misses the warmth almost immediately. He then realizes Seungkwan is holding something out to him—something purple, about the shape and size of a baseball. “This is for you,” he says.
Jihoon takes it, turning the shrink-wrapped ball over in his hands. “What is it?” he asks, figuring Seungkwan’s explanation would tell him a lot more than the ‘lavender scent’ label stuck to the outside.
“It’s a bath bomb.”
Jihoon has a vague idea of what that is, although he’s never used one himself. “So…you want me to…?”
“Take a bath, yeah,” Seungkwan is nodding enthusiastically now. “It’s relaxing. Drop the whole thing into a warm bath. It smells good, makes the water pretty, and is good for your skin.”
“Where did you get it?” Jihoon asks, trying to think about where they might have gone that Seungkwan would have picked up something like this.
“I brought it from home,” Seungkwan grins, “I looked up the rental beforehand and knew I’d want to bathe in one of those huge bathtubs.”
Jihoon immediately tries to hand it back, but Seungkwan shakes his head. “Seungkwan, I can’t take your stuff,” he protests. He’d been a jerk, and now Seungkwan is just handing over his personal bath products?
“I have four more! I bought a whole package. Really, hyung, it’s no big deal,” Seungkwan insists. “I don’t know if you even like baths, or if you like the smell of lavender—do you?” he asks. Jihoon nods a little helplessly. “I just thought you should try it. It’s nice. Lavender is helpful for sleep, too.”
Jihoon had just slept for three hours in the middle of the afternoon, so maybe he could use a little assistance falling asleep later tonight…
He accepts his fate.
“Thanks, Seungkwan,” he says, touched and a little overwhelmed by the sincerity of the smile he receives, “I’ll use it. And I’ll try to be less—” he makes an indiscriminate gesture toward his head, which makes Seungkwan laugh.
“Good,” Seungkwan nods, “you’ll get wrinkles from frowning so hard. Are you taking the vitamins I’m giving you?”
Jihoon’s poker face isn’t quite quick enough.
“Hyung!” Seungkwan scolds.
For some reason, all of a sudden, the never-ending nagging is music to Jihoon’s ears.
He happily engages in the dinnertime conversation that evening, as glad to see the atmosphere is back to normal as he is sorry that he’d disrupted it in the first place. The food is good—they’re grilling tonight, with up-and-coming grill master Chan as the star of the show—and the games that result from just a little bit of alcohol-induced silliness are second-to-none.
Seokmin somehow manages to talk him into a ridiculously sized piece of cake after the main meal. Jihoon has no idea how they’d gotten cake. He doesn’t even like cake that much. He’s pretty sure he’s going to die from some kind of sugar overload.
They sit around the campfire for a while afterward. The intention, probably, is to get them all sentimental for the show, but then Seungcheol cracks a dirty joke they know is going to have to be cut, which sends everyone into tittering giggles every time the conversation even remotely approaches the topic.
Despite sleeping so much that afternoon, Jihoon is yawning before it’s even ten pm. He’s met with several tentatively teasing comments—ones he’s certain he deserves—to which he responds by blaming the mountain of sugar Seokmin had just tried to kill him with.
He doesn’t particularly want to fall asleep in the camping chair, and he still has a vested interest in following Seungkwan’s bath advice, so he says his goodnights soon after—obtaining a big, over-the-top hug from both Seokmin and Seungkwan. He squeezes back just as fiercely, laughing when they wail in pretend agony.
Soonyoung jumps up at the last minute to announce he’ll be walking Jihoon back, because the 100-meter trip to the house is clearly full of potential dangers. And he has to charge his phone.
Jihoon appreciates the company regardless of the reason.
Bathing is…harder than he’d expected.
At least, talking himself into actually running a bath is.
There aren't many opportunities for small pleasures like this back at the dorm, so he knows he should be grateful. And he is grateful, really, for Seungkwan’s foresight and generosity. It certainly sounds like a good idea. But he’s never really been much of a bath person to begin with, and he finds he’s feeling a bit…apprehensive? Which is ridiculous, because a bath requires next to no effort, and yet—
“Jihoon-ah, everything okay?” Soonyoung’s voice rings through the bathroom door. Why he’d decided to stay behind after plugging in his phone is a mystery, but Jihoon has long since given up on trying to determine the motivations of Kwon Soonyoung. His sudden question is enough, though, for Jihoon to realize that he’d said he was taking a bath nearly ten minutes ago and has yet to turn on the water.
“Yeah, I’m—” he fumbles for a reasonable excuse, “—thinking.”
A long pause. “Thinking about…taking a bath?” Soonyoung sounds like he’s struggling not to laugh.
“Thinking about how to resist the urge to throttle you,” Jihoon bites back.
But he remembers he’d been hard on Soonyoung that morning, too. And although their performance leader can be exasperating, he doesn’t deserve Jihoon’s attitude any more than the rest of them.
“Uh—or, I mean—” Jihoon corrects himself, “—sorta, I guess. I’m too much in my head.”
Soonyoung hums. Jihoon can hear the frown in his tone. “Can I come in?” he eventually asks.
Jihoon’s head snaps up. “No! Or—why?” It’s not like he’s undressed yet—or that the thirteen of them aren’t used to seeing each other naked anyway—but he can’t fathom why Soonyoung would want to join him in the bathroom while he’s bathing, of all things.
“I’ll keep you company,” Soonyoung says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Keep you out of your head. If you want.”
“Oh.” That’s…maybe not so weird? It’s not normal bath etiquette, but nothing about any of them has ever been normal. And he supposes he wouldn’t really mind spending time with Soonyoung to make up for his earlier snappishness, either. “I guess…sure?” He stands to unlock the door. Soonyoung grins at him as soon as it swings open.
“Jihoonie wants to take a bath with me~” he teases, smiling so hard Jihoon can’t even be annoyed with him.
“If you try to stick even one toe in the water with me, I’ll drown you,” he warns.
“Okay, okay,” Soonyoung relents, “I’m just here for moral support.”
It’s such a silly concept—moral support for a bath—that Jihoon is caught off-guard with a snort of laughter.
Soonyoung breaks into his own fit of giggles, which only makes it funnier, which sets Jihoon off too, until they’re both nearly in tears.
“Okay, you—stop—” Jihoon waves him off, hand pressed to his chest, “—you’re—stop it. Let me just get this set up.” He twists on the tap, holds his fingers beneath the running water until it reaches a suitable temperature, then plugs the drain. Seungkwan hadn’t been exaggerating—the tub is huge. Jihoon says a silent, inane prayer for forgiveness from whatever small lake he must be draining to fill it.
“Are you getting undressed~?” Soonyoung’s lilting tone flutters from the other end of the room, and Jihoon can see that he’s sitting on the floor now, with his eyes covered—although it’s not stopping him from wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
Jihoon resists the urge to smack him while he’s not looking. “No,” he insists, because the water is taking its sweet time, and damned if he’s going to stand there in the nude for five minutes while it fills.
“Aw,” Soonyoung expresses his disappointment, dropping his hands. “What did Seungkwan give you?” he asks, seeking further entertainment now that the promise of a show has been delayed.
Jihoon hands over the bath bomb. Soonyoung sniffs it through the cellophane. “Smells good,” he comments, nodding approvingly. “Can I unwrap it?”
“Sure,” Jihoon nods, watching in amusement as Soonyoung struggles with his stubby nails to get a good grip on the plastic. But he gets it eventually, proudly holding up the final product.
Jihoon takes it. Same size, same weight, with a much stronger smell now. Apparently it’ll fizz when he drops it in the water. The world is full of strange luxuries.
Speaking of which, he looks over his shoulder just in time to see the bath reach the top of the fill line. He turns off the tap and looks pointedly at Soonyoung.
“I won’t watch,” Soonyoung pouts, turning around with an exaggerated huff.
Jihoon sets the bath bomb carefully on the lip of the tub and slowly strips, piling his clothes on the floor. He stands for one hesitant moment by the edge, then drops the lavender ball into the center of the tub.
The amount of immediate fizz is almost startling, but the light purple shimmering and swirling into the clear water is rather pretty. He steps slowly into the tub, avoiding a hiss as his chilly toes get acclimated to the temperature, but he's unable to suppress a sigh as he sits down, hot water lapping over muscles in his back and shoulders that he hadn’t even realized had been aching.
“Are you decent?” Soonyoung asks, tapping his fingers on the floor impatiently.
“No,” Jihoon responds, “but is that gonna stop you?”
“Hmm…” Soonyoung, sitting cross-legged, whips around 180 degrees, “…nope.”
Jihoon makes a face.
Soonyoung laughs. “Is it nice?”
Jihoon nods without needing to think about it. “This thing is making the water, like—” he swishes his hand around, marveling at its near-opacity, “—really purple.” He thinks about the implications of that for a moment, then asks, “Am I gonna be purple?”
“Guess we’ll find out,” Soonyoung teases.
Jihoon doesn’t believe Seungkwan would be foolish enough to accidentally dye his vocal leader purple.
Probably.
Hopefully.
He hadn’t realized his eyes had fallen shut until he hears a noise right beside his head, his gaze snapping up to lock on to the intruder.
Soonyoung doesn’t seem phased. He smiles, seemingly pleased with himself for sneaking up, and greets, “Hi.”
“Hi,” Jihoon automatically replies. Then, compulsively, since Soonyoung is right there, “Sorry for being myself this morning.”
Soonyoung frowns. “That wasn’t yourself, Jihoon-ah…” he corrects, tone almost reproachful.
Taken aback, Jihoon’s lips form a matching frown. “Well, I’m still—I was out of line, so.”
“True,” Soonyoung nods sagely, “but I know it didn’t come from the heart. Apology accepted.”
Soonyoung may be one of the most ridiculous people Jihoon has ever met, but sometimes he sees and understands others so well that Jihoon is forced to acknowledge his emotional sensitivity. “Thanks,” he exhales, relief flooding through his veins, “thanks.”
“Of course!” Soonyoung’s voice takes on a chipper lilt once more, “I know you love me…our Jihoonie…my Jihoonie…”
Jihoon is grateful for the heat of the bath, because he knows his face is flushing. “Don’t push it,” he warns, but it comes out so strangled that Soonyoung only laughs.
“Sorry,” he stops himself, “I know you’re supposed to be relaxing.”
“I am relaxing,” Jihoon insists, more vehement than he would have expected. “It’s better, having you around. It makes me feel—” calm? comfortable? grateful? loved? “—better,” he decides.
“Good,” Soonyoung reaches out, fingers running smoothly through Jihoon’s hair, “I’m the best moral support, after all.”
Jihoon can’t say he disagrees.
He soaks in the bath until the water is tepid, only reluctantly extracting himself when Soonyoung insists he’s going to catch a cold if he stays in any longer. That’s not how it works, his brain supplies, but he’s been lulled into such a state of calm over the past half hour that he sees no point in arguing the fact.
It’s only once he’s gotten dressed and brushed his teeth that he remembers they’d divided the two beds in the room rock-paper-scissors style, leaving Mingyu with the bed closest to the window and himself and Soonyoung sharing the larger one by the door. Predictably, instead of bidding him goodnight, Soonyoung climbs right into bed beside him.
“I should’ve taken the other one and made you sleep with Mingyu,” Jihoon grouses, trying futilely to disentangle himself from Soonyoung’s limbs. He has half a mind to claim Mingyu’s spot while he’s not here and force him into an evening shift as Soonyoung’s cuddle buddy instead.
Soonyoung laughs. “Like you would doom his giant body to sharing a space with me. You’re the perfect size.”
Insulted, Jihoon wants to insist that he very well would subject Mingyu to such a thing, and just because he’s small doesn’t automatically mean—but then his head snaps forward with a sneeze he only half manages to smother into the covers, and the thought is lost.
“Ah,” Soonyoung intones, his own mind changing courses as well, “you stayed in the bath too long—what did I tell you? This is how we catch colds.”
Jihoon shakes his head. “It’s not. We don’t.”
“Poor Jihoonie…”
“Poor nobody, it’s—”
“…sick with a cold in the middle of summer…”
“You know damn well it isn’t—”
“Then why is it called a cold?” Soonyoung asks, words laced with innocence.
Jihoon has no good answer for that.
Soonyoung takes his silence as a win. “Now you have to stay in bed. Lots of rest. Let everyone else take care of you.”
“I’m kind of doing that already,” Jihoon admits.
“Good.” Soonyoung kisses him on the forehead, then the cheek. “I’m already immune, by the way,” he adds unnecessarily.
“Thank god,” Jihoon rolls his eyes, “Wouldn’t want you to catch a nonexistent cold, too.”
“Right,” Soonyoung nods, “because then who would take care of you?”
Any of the other eleven best people on the planet, probably, Jihoon figures. Aloud, he says, “Think you might be inventing a cold as an excuse to coddle me.”
“Shhhh,” Soonyoung pulls him closer, “don’t think too hard.” Jihoon snorts. Soonyoung responds by petting his hair and tucking his head beneath his chin. “Get some rest, Jihoon-ah. You’ll feel better if you give yourself a break.” There’s a beat of silence, then he adds, “In case you were wondering, the treatment for stress is pretty much the same.”
Kwon Soonyoung is an incredibly strange friend to have.
But Kwon Soonyoung is also warm, gentle, and currently rubbing Jihoon’s back, which feels so good it’s making Jihoon’s brain a little stupid—and making Soonyoung himself impossible to argue with.
Not that Jihoon would ever tell him that.
He probably doesn’t have to, because he knows better than anyone that actions speak louder than words. So he lets out a long-suffering sigh, settles into Soonyoung’s embrace, feels lips press gently against the crown of his head, and tries not to think too hard.
This is fine, he decides. He’d apologized, taken a nap, taken a bath, and is feeling more human than he has in weeks. He can allow himself a bit of judgement-free cuddling.
He has a cold, after all, per Dr. Soonyoung. And he’s been a little stressed, too.
(But the treatment for both is pretty much the same.)