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Jeongin hates when he gets like this.
As confident as he may present himself on stage, the hours leading up to a performance can be miserable.
All of his insecurities bubble to the surface while he waits. He can hardly sit still, pacing the waiting room as he reviews the lyrics for the tenth, dozenth, hundredth time, both inside his head and out loud at a low volume. Occasionally he shakes out his hands, too, trying to get rid of the jitters.
But this somehow feels worse than usual.
Jeongin has sung solo before. He’s recorded ‘SKZ Record’ tracks in the studio, worked and practiced on his own, and dealt with that stress. And yet there’s something about ‘My Universe’ and the thought of singing alongside the group’s main vocalist that has Jeongin sweating buckets.
The most ridiculous thing is that Jeongin has sung with Seungmin countless times—knows him extremely well. They’re practically inseparable off-stage. And, as much as Jeongin will cringe at the term, he and Seungmin are undoubtedly friends. Their relationship isn’t inpersonal or merely the shared burden of two singers in a professional setting.
So, obviously there’s no legitimate reason for Jeongin to be freaking out about this performance. And yet here he is, making another lap around the waiting room, murmuring the lyrics under his breath like he’s well and truly lost his mind.
To his relief, the other members of the group don’t comment on it. They have their own unit performances to worry about. Plus, they take advantage of any downtime they can get. They won’t waste it watching Jeongin imprint a path in the floor as he babbles to himself. To be honest, most of them are napping rather than expending energy teasing Jeongin.
The only two people who haven’t taken to mobile games or sleeping are the two that’ll be joining Jeongin onstage: Changbin and Seungmin.
Unlike the others, Changbin has definitely been keeping an eye on Jeongin. He has fewer lyrics than Jeongin or Seungmin, but he’s reviewing them regardless. Every now and then, Jeongin catches him glancing in Jeongin’s direction, brows furrowed like he’s concerned but not quite sure what to say.
Then, there’s Seungmin.
Brilliantly talented Seungmin who practically oozes confidence, no matter the circumstance.
In moments like this, Jeongin becomes paranoid. What if he drags down the rest of the group? He is the youngest and least experienced, after all. What if he drags Seungmin down with him? Maybe the fans will be too distracted by a voice crack or stumble on Jeongin’s part to notice Seungmin’s soothing vocals, reliable and—
“Innie?”
Jeongin nearly jumps out of his own skin as two arms wrap around his waist and someone perches their chin on his shoulder. Well, not just anyone. Jeongin would recognize that adoring lilt anywhere.
“Hm?” Jeongin attempts to move, and Seungmin squeezes him tighter. “Hyung, come on.”
“I just wanted to check on you,” Seungmin replies, and Jeongin can practically hear him pouting. “You’ve practiced enough. Don’t you think?”
“We both know ‘practicing enough’ doesn’t exist.”
“It does. Especially moments before a performance. You’re as ready as you’ll ever be.”
“What if that isn’t ‘ready’ enough?” Jeongin winces, cursing himself for letting his innermost thoughts slip out like that.
Seungmin stiffens but rests his palms softly on Jeongin’s tummy. After a moment of awkward tension, Seungmin pulls Jeongin against his chest with a light press to his stomach, warm breath tickling the column of Jeongin’s throat. Seungmin smells of mouthwash and perfume, clinging to the sailor uniform that Jeongin can’t help but find endearing—the very same sailor uniform chosen and styled to match his.
On the bright side, Jeongin’s nerves have mostly evaporated. But they’ve been replaced by anxiety, the source being another pressing matter.
Literally pressing, Jeongin thinks with a bitter chuckle as Seungmin curls as close as possible, tracing circles into Jeongin’s abdomen.
“I understand,” Seungmin says, “but I promise you’re worrying over nothing.”
“But what if I—”
“What, mess up? What if I mess up, hm?”
“You won’t.”
“There’s no guarantee.” Seungmin pauses to let out a sigh. “I’m human, too. Literally any single one of us could make a mistake.”
“Yeah, but…” Jeongin worries at his bottom lip and lightly rests his hands over Seungmin’s. “I’m part of our vocal line, right? My job—my responsibility is to sing. And to do it well.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re not a human being capable of making mistakes. Plus, I know how much we’ve rehearsed. You’re going to do great. We both will. Okay?”
As much as Jeongin would like to deny how amazing it feels to be reassured like this, held like this, he can’t. Sure, he’ll push Seungmin away when they’re joking with each other, especially around the dorm or when the cameras are on them during an interview or game. But in private moments like this, moments that feel scarily intimate, Jeongin can’t even dream of refusing Seungmin.
“Did someone say something to you?” Seungmin’s tone sinks to a deep, menacing register. “You can tell me.”
Jeongin scoffs. It’s hard to believe—at least for him—that Seungmin has a protective streak. Frankly, he’s protective of all the members, but especially Jeongin, seeing as he’s the only person younger than him.
(Although there could be another reason, but Jeongin isn’t going there.)
“No, nobody said anything to me,” Jeongin answers. “Geez, no need to go all ‘attack dog’ on someone. Especially for my sake.”
“You sure? I think you’d like it. Sometimes it’s necessary.”
“When?”
“Obviously whenever someone makes you feel bad about yourself.”
“Even if it’s one of the other members?” Jeongin blurts, primarily to be stubborn.
But Seungmin barely pauses to consider it.
“I know they never would,” he says, “but if they did, I guess I’d have no other choice.”
“Changbin?”
“Under the right circumstances.”
“That’s insane,” Jeongin snorts. “You’re insane. You wouldn’t last a second.”
Somehow, he can feel Seungmin shrug from behind him.
“And outside of the group? Anyone else—”
“—would be fair game.”
“Okay, so you seriously think you could take on, like, a body builder?”
“Again, are you sure someone didn’t say anything to you? That’s oddly specific,” Seungmin drawls, absentmindedly tracing a triangle with his fingertips.
Jeongin scoffs. “I promise, no one said anything.”
Seungmin hums, the vibrations of his chest reverberating through Jeongin. He taps a rhythm against Jeongin’s tummy, something that may or may not be the melody to ‘My Universe,’ and continues to hum what definitely sounds like the lyrics.
Jeongin decides to bask in this moment of comfortable silence. None of the other members are around to give him shit for it and even Changbin appears too engrossed in his phone to notice. Unless he’s making a conscious effort not to pay attention to Seungmin and Jeongin, which would be a first. The stylists and staff are preoccupied, as well, and Jeongin lets out a content sigh, sinking further into Seungmin’s embrace.
Just when Jeongin thinks he’s saved from having a talk about his emotions, Seungmin speaks up. “Innie?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m not sure if it helps at all,” Seungmin murmurs into Jeongin’s fluffy hair, “but… I believe in you.”
Warmth floods Jeongin’s body, enough to make him a bit dizzy and wobbly on his feet. He’s thankful to have Seungmin supporting him, but also wishes he could step away and avoid any chance of Seungmin hearing his relentless heartbeat. Those strong arms suddenly feel like brands against Jeongin’s skin, even with a definite layer of fabric between them and Jeongin’s bare torso.
I believe in you.
Seungmin, their main vocalist and Jeongin’s best friend, believes in him.
(Of course that’s the only reason Jeongin is internally screaming right now. No other reason.)
Jeongin isn’t the type to fish for compliments, but he can’t help but ask, “Really?”
“Of course,” Seungmin scoffs, like it isn’t even a question. “We all do.”
Oh.
“But mostly me.” Seungmin nuzzles against Jeongin’s neck and lets out a breathless giggle, sending a shiver down Jeongin’s spine. “Don’t you forget it.”
How could he possibly forget?
Jeongin huffs out a nervous chuckle and finally wiggles free of Seungmin’s grasp, surprised when Seungmin lets him go without a fight. He tosses a glare over his shoulder, but even he knows it doesn’t carry its usual heat. Seungmin, then, has the audacity to smirk and fucking wink at him.
The jerk.
“So clingy,” Jeongin grumbles as if it’s a bad thing. “You better hope your faith in me isn’t misplaced.”
Seungmin’s smirk curls into something fond and achingly genuine. “Oh, it’s not misplaced. Trust me.”
Jeongin, sadly, has to agree when everything’s said and done. The performance goes off without a hitch, although Seungmin consistently motions at Jeongin with purpose whenever he sings about his ‘universe,’ his smile unwavering.
And, on the bright side, Changbin only teases Jeongin and Seungmin for the first few minutes after the performance. Namely about how they gave each other ‘heart eyes’ and made Changbin feel like ‘a third wheel.’
But Jeongin chooses to unpack all of that another day.
Because, most importantly, Kim Seungmin believes in him.