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Doyoung knows he’s too much. He knows when his presence is unwanted. He knows when he is not needed. He knows he nags too much, thinks too much, worries too much and cares too much. So really, it doesn’t surprise him when he’s ignored or forgotten. In a band with so many members, it’s only natural that someone is left behind. It’s only natural that the someone is him, given his tendency to be too much. And yet. It stings sometimes. It used to hurt more when he’d just arrived at the conclusion of just how forgettable he was. Now though, it stings, a dull ache that comes and goes. It still stings when he finds out he’s not in a group chat that apparently everyone is in.
“You don’t play games like we do, hyung, so I forgot to add you.” Haechan says sheepishly. He looks sincerely apologetic.
For all his teasing and their fiery dynamic, the younger boy did not have a single malicious bone in his body so rationally, Doyoung knows it wasn’t intentional.
But still.
How invisible was he? Just how forgettable was he? Is he even worth having a presence? How-
“I’m sorry, hyung.” Haechan says, pulling him into a loose hug, effectively cutting through his depressing mental spiral.
Doyoung hugs him back and pats his head, says, “It’s okay, Donghyuck-ah.”
If Haechan hugs him tighter then, only because Doyoung had slipped up and used his real name that nearly no one calls him now, neither mention it.
Haechan adds him to the group later that night and it makes Doyoung feel stupid and selfish. He has nothing to contribute here, no value, no presence. How is he useful here?
He stays in the chat.
The feeling of being not good enough, Doyoung muses, is perhaps a feeling felt universally by all younger siblings. But that paints his family in a terrible light so Doyoung refuses to entertain that belief. It makes him feel guilty and ungrateful.
It’s not like anyone told him he had to measure up. It’s not like his parents ever treated him any differently than how they treated Gongmyung. He grew up surrounded by love, every memory drenched in warmth and acceptance from his family. His every dream taken seriously, his every wish catered to. His parents weren’t perfect but they loved him and his brother the way they deserved to be. Doyoung could never find fault with them.
And Gongmyung. Gosh, Gongmyung was the best older brother anyone could ever ask for. He’d been there for every up and every down in Doyoung’s life. When he’d announced his dream to become an idol, Gongmyung was the first person to give his support. His brother always made sure he felt seen, not just heard. His shadow may have been big but he never overshadowed or belittled Doyoung.
In fact, Doyoung thinks it’s his own lack of confidence and his own need to prove himself that really caused the damage. He’s always believed that he had to earn the right to be his parents’ son, his brother’s sibling, Taeyong’s best friend; the list goes on.
Doyoung always thought he has to prove his worth to be loved. What use is he, if he served no purpose? What does he bring to the table in a relationship?
This line of thinking fully justifies why he nags so much, why he always buys gifts for his members, why he likes cooking for them, why he remembers what every member likes and dislikes. If his existence had utility then he was allowed to take up as much space as he wants.
He could even demand for his existence to be remembered. He’d have the right. His reason for existing stems from his value as a son, a brother, a friend.
If he didn’t prove his worth, his utility, how could he expect to be loved?
“Doie,”
“Hmm.”
A socked foot pokes him in the shin.
“Doie-ah,”
Taeyong sounds exasperated, but fondly so. Doyoung looks up then.
His leader looks small and comfortable on his bed. In the dim light of the lamp, his features look pixie-like, elfin and otherworldly.
Doyoung used to feel jealous. He wasn’t talented like Taeyong. He couldn’t move his body the way his hyung could, was not petite and pretty like he was, was not charismatic and charming as he was.
He was the opposite of everything Doyoung was. When they’d been trainees, Doyoung hated how the older boy made everything look so effortless, so easy.
But that was before he got to know the man, before he found out exactly how much Taeyong pushed his body to attain the illusion of perfection. If Doyoung had self-esteem issues, Taeyong was destructively self-critical.
Of course every idol has the habit of nitpicking their every move on stage. But Taeyong went beyond such nitpicking; he completely tore himself apart. Doyoung had taken one look at all that and his heart had sighed, Oh, we’re not so dissimilar after all.
“What’s up?” Doyoung put away his phone. His idle scrolling through social media was a terrible habit he’d been trying to break with no success. And it hadn’t escaped Taeyong’s notice.
Taeyong opened his arms, pouting. Doyoung rolled his eyes but relented, a smile twitching on his lips as he crawled into his best friend’s arms, back slotting against his chest.
The easy affection was something Doyoung relied on more than anything else. He rarely let himself be this free with anyone. Taeyong was the person who knew him the best, perhaps even more than Gongmyung. With Taeyong, Doyoung felt safe, seen.
“What are you thinking about?” Taeyong asks once they’ve settled into a comfortable position.
A hand found a way into his hair and Doyoung relaxed into the soothing motions.
“Nothing really. I was just skimming through Twitter.” he says. It’s not a lie.
“Hmm,” Taeyong hums in that usual way of his right before he breaches a sensitive subject.
“Manager-hyung told me that you turned down another drama. Any particular reason?”
Ah, there it was.
Doyoung had wondered when the news would reach his leader. It wasn’t as if he’d made an active effort to hide it but he still thought he’d had more time. Of course he didn’t.
Taeyong took his role as a leader very seriously, perhaps even more than his position as a rapper or dancer. He was always ready to help his members with any problem. Though he often lacked confidence in his own abilities, Taeyong was incredibly skilled at pushing everyone else in reaching for opportunities that would help them grow.
Doyoung shrugged, “No reason. Just wanted a breather.” he burrowed deeper into Taeyong’s smaller frame, his body betraying the half-lie.
The hand in his hair paused for a millisecond before resuming.
“Really? It’s nothing else then?” He asks. His voice is soft, the voice he usually uses when trying to coax the younger members into confiding their issues.
Doyoung irrationally feels happy and annoyed at the treatment. He never lets anyone baby him as much as Taeyong except maybe Johnny (at least privately because in public their dynamic was fueled by the whole “love-hate” schtick. Besides, Johnny was always open to any form affection, despite his penchant for teasing him). But being babied made him feel…useless. Like he hadn’t done enough to prove his ability in taking care of himself.
Why should Taeyong care for him when he hasn’t done anything to warrant it? Why should anyone?
“Hey,” Taeyong knocks his head against his gently, “Where’d you go?”
Doyoung doesn’t respond.
Instead, he breathes in deliberately and then turns in Taeyong’s arms, wrapping his limbs around him in a hug. Taeyong accepts the change in position without any complain and wriggles until he’s properly lying down.
He resumes stroking Doyoung’s hair.
It’s silent for awhile before Taeyong speaks up, “You’ll tell me if something’s wrong right, Doie?”
Doyoung hides his face in the cradle of Taeyong’s neck and says, half-lies like he always does these days, “Yes, Tyongie, I will.”
So why did Doyoung turn down that drama and now recently, that solo?
It’s no secret that out of all the members, Doyoung had the most number of personal activities outside band activities.
There was a time when his schedule had been packed, jumping between Dear X shooting, practising for his musicals and NCT promotions. He’d come home late, way past midnight, munch on whatever leftover was left in the fridge and crawl into bed. Or he’d leave before the sun woke up, shoving a protein bar into his mouth and dragging himself into the car.
Doyoung liked being busy. In fact, he enjoyed it. Aside from the obvious exposure he (and by extension NCT) was gaining through his solo activities, he was reminded on the daily that he was needed. His voice was needed for an OST, his face was needed for a photoshoot, his appearance was needed for emceeing. Doyoung’s existence was important in those moments of flashing lights and soft brushes and glamorous outfits.
However.
He’d come back home and sometimes feel like a ghost. A phantom without a body. Again, it wasn’t anybody’s fault. But sometimes he’d feel so out of the loop, he’d wish he’d never left for any particular project. He’d apparently missed Yuta and Mark’s impromptu rap battle that had left all of them in stitches way past the moment of its occurrence. He comes home to his members passed out in the living room, some obscure movie playing on low-volume and have the sinking realisation that he’d missed another movie night.
Small things but big enough for Doyoung who realised that the world went on even without him. His presence wasn’t needed. He had become redundant.
On top of this, he’d also realised that with every comeback, he was getting lesser lines.
Which. Which makes sense.
If Doyoung was gaining more popularity via solo schedules, then it’s only fair that he was given lesser lines, lesser screen time when it came to band activities. After all, Yuta or Jungwoo had never once complained about getting so little to perform in all their 7 years as a band. It’s only fair if they got the chance to shine more than him.
How could he be so greedy by wanting more?
So he said no. He turned down every new solo project that came his way because he needed to be here. At the dorm. With everyone, surrounded by warmth and laughter and inside jokes. He needed to be tangible, to be a person with a presence if he wanted to be seen. If he wanted to prove his worth.
Doyoung shouldn’t be greedy. He cannot always have everything he wants nor does he deserve to.
He must give up on certain things to secure other things.
When Taeyong (after a conversation with their manager) brings up Street Alcohol Fighter to the group, everyone unanimously agrees to send Doyoung.
“But why me?” Doyoung asks. Even to his own ears he sounds dangerously close to whining.
“You know why, Doyoung-ah. Only you and Jae can hold your liquor well.” Johnny pipes up from where he’s seated on couch, his giant form squished between Mark and Jaehyun.
“Then why not Jae?” Doyoung asks. This is a losing battle, he knows. But damn it all if he’s not going down fighting.
“I have a dress rehearsal for Prada, hyung. I’m sorry.” Jaehyun says, looking genuinely sorry for not being able to go instead of him.
They all look sorry about everything around him these days. He doesn’t know if he should feel embarrassed or touched that they were handling him so softly.
Doyoung sighs and throws in the proverbial towel: “Fine, I’ll go.”
Taeyong grabs his hands with his, “Thank you, Doie.” he says quietly, something only they can hear.
Doyoung smiles at him, a wobbly smile and then retreats to his room.
He’s informed later that he’d be meeting Xiumin and Kangta an hour before they meet Heechul at the venue. (He finds out much later, at the hotel room that they were pre-gaming and vows to himself to see it through. If they want entertainment then that is what he’ll provide.)
They’re set to fly to Manila at 7 am the next day and Doyoung knows his hangover is going to be terrible but in the moment, surrounded by his seniors and good alcohol, he can hardly bring himself to care. He does sip water in between glasses because he cannot afford to lose his voice.
When he stumbles back home around 1 am, he’s still a little drunk, not entirely sober.
Taeyong is waiting for him in the living room.
The desk lamp is on and Doyoung drags his feet to where his best friend sits on the couch. He lays down, his head automatically settling on Taeyong’s lap.
“Hey,” Taeyong greets in a low voice. He sounds like he’d dozed off. Doyoung must have responded somehow because Taeyong chuckles.
“Seems like you had fun, Doie.” a finger pokes his cheek and he turns away, whining, pushing his face further into Taeyong sweater-clad stomach.
And for some reason, that does it. Because yes, he did have fun. He’d proven his worth, had sealed his image in red and now he won’t be forgotten.
At 1 am, after having a lot of fun with his sunbaenim, face still made up, Doyoung cries in his best friend’s arms.
“Shit, what happened, Doyoung-ah? Did someone say something?” Taeyong whispers furiously after he calms down a little. He doesn’t try to move him but rather holds him tighter.
“No, no. Nothing happened, hyung,” Doyoung says. The use of honorific doesn’t escape Taeyong's notice but he says nothing. Instead, he gives Doyoung some time.
Doyoung pulls himself out of the alcove of Taeyong’s stomach.
“I’m just…” Depressed. Insecure beyond belief.
He settles on “Tired. I’m tired, hyung.”
Taeyong coos at him sympathetically, softly patting his head, “Sorry for making you go, Doie-ah.”
Before Taeyong spiral into his own I’m-a-terrible-leader spiral, Doyoung sits up and turns to him. “‘Is okay, you have nothin’ to apologise for. ‘Is not your fault.”
In the soft yellow light, Taeyong smiles at him, probably finding his slurring endearing and then he helps him stand up.
“Come on, you should wash up and go to bed.”
Doyoung lets himself be dragged.
He can have this, he can allow himself to be cared for.
Only today.
They come back and things rapidly spiral out of Doyoung’s control.
He knows he should reach out for help. He knows he’ll be given it readily.
And yet a part of him, the biggest part, refuses.
What can be so wrong with him that he needs help?
He’s performing well, eating well, sleeping well (sort of). Everything was fine.
They’re still touring, and promotions were going by swiftly for “2 Baddies”. Doyoung cannot, will not let himself be dead weight. He will provide. He will be useful.
One late evening, he’s lazily making ramen, the kind that doesn’t take any extra effort or ingredients. He’s staring into the boiling vessel when arms wrap around him from behind.
The body behind him is taller and broader than Taeyong’s short, lithe frame and Doyoung instinctively knows it’s Johnny.
“Doyoungie,” Johnny drags out the ending syllables and Doyoung chuckles despite himself.
“Hi, hyung,” Doyoung says.
Johnny’s chin comes to settle on his shoulder as he starts to sway them gently back and forth.
Doyoung doesn’t resist.
“Are you okay, Doie-ah?” the question is whispered after a few minutes.
If Johnny was asking him then Doyoung must really be doing bad.
Johnny’s big frame belies a heart of gold. He was the member everyone went to when they wanted advise and comfort. He was always ready to lend an ear and a shoulder to those who needed it. Despite all his teasing, after Taeyong, Johnny was perhaps the most protective of Doyoung. He, like Taeyong knew how truly sensitive Doyoung was even without the younger having to say it loud.
When Doyoung takes too long to answer, Johnny hugs him tighter, “You’re not eating properly. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
He’s scolding him in the most gentle way possible and Doyoung feels guilty.
He’s not doing enough to convince him that he’s okay. He hadn’t even noticed that his eating habits had changed. It was normal for the members to lose weight before comeback. Especially when it’s a comeback like “2 Baddies” where almost half the band is shirtless. It’s no secret that Doyoung’s never been one for exercise but it’s true that he did try a little harder to look slimmer, better this comeback.
He had to look a little different to be noticeable, right?
Johnny turns off the stove for him because apparently Doyoung had disappeared inside his head too long. He’s turned around gently.
Johnny looks at him with sad eyes. There’s no pity but rather love. He looks at him like Taeyong looks at him.
“I’m worried about you. Is something wrong? You know you can talk to me, right?” He asks, voice almost pleading.
“Nothing’s wrong, hyung. And I know, hyung. I know I can come to you.” Doyoung replies. He cannot hold contact with Johnny’s eyes for long. Fearing that he’d completely crack, he looks somewhere above his shoulder instead.
He hears Johnny sigh and then, “Is it…is it getting bad again?” Johnny questions hesitantly.
Doyoung sucks in a breath, shoulders tensing.
He knows what his hyung is referring to. Doyoung sometimes experiences low periods of energy where he becomes quiet, moody. His habits change. He usually sleeps very well but during these periods, sleep evades him. The only people who know about these bouts of depression where Taeyong, Johnny and strangely, Haechan, and that’s only because the younger had accidentally caught him roaming around the dorm at 3 am when Doyoung’s insomnia had been at its worst (the younger man himself had just finished gaming and had come to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water only to be startled by Doyoung rooting through the fridge for a snack).
He’s usually able to handle these lows very well that he hadn’t ever sought out professional help.
He hadn’t realised that it was getting bad again. The recent exacerbation of his thought process makes more sense to him now.
“Doyoung-ah,” Johnny shakes him gently.
Doyoung comes back to himself, “Sorry, hyung.” He’s not sure what he’s really apologising for. For being so useless? For not eating well and making Johnny worry? For spacing out so much? He doesn’t find an answer but Johnny simply shakes his head in response.
“I don’t know. Maybe? I’m not very sure, hyung,” Doyoung finally says in response to the previous question.
Johnny hums. And then he asks, “Will you get help if it gets worse?” He sounds so hopeful and Doyoung hates having to crush that hope.
So he lies, says, “Yes, hyung, I will.”
Johnny pulls him into a hug, the bear hug that he’s so loved for and Doyoung hugs him back, wishing he could always stay this safe, this protected.
It’s not meant to be. But Doyoung wishes for it anyway.
Then SM releases a statement.
Right in the middle of promotions.
Doyoung doesn’t even know about it until he’s sitting in front of the mirror to get his hair done. It was nice of his members to not mention anything but Doyoung still wishes someone had told him.
The world around him narrows down to his phone.
Hello, this is SM Entertainment.
We have confirmed that the image of DOYOUNG in the Digipack version of
NCT 127’s 4th album ‘2 Baddies’ is missing.
We sincerely apologise…
He looks up at his reflection then, sound rushing back into his ears as he stares at his own eyes.
Why does this make him feel like shit? It’s a digipack. It wasn’t even a regular album. So why was this affecting him so badly?
He grips the armrests to hide his shaking hands and barely hears his stylist tell him he’s done before he throws himself out of the chair, searching for the nearest exit.
Jaehyun catches sight of him as he’s headed for the bathroom and shoots him a bright smile, dimples and all, a smile that wilts when he see his face.
Doyoung hates himself for putting that expression on his perfect face.
Before Doyoung has a chance to escape, Jaehyun is there, guiding him to a less noisy corner of the room.
“Are you okay, hyung?” he asks sweetly, his big eyes concerned and shiny.
Doyoung wonders what he looks like and says, “Yes, yes I’m okay.” And then just to make it worse for himself, asks, “Why do you ask, Jae?”
Jaehyun gives him a look that betrays his disbelief but is too kind to call him out on it. Instead he says, “You look like you’ve been on the receiving end of one of Taeyong hyung’s lectures.”
Unbidden, a laugh bubbles out of Doyoung’s throat. Taeyong, for all his antics, was one of the scariest members when he was upset or mad. But right now, Doyoung wishes that were the case.
Any lecture would be better than this crushing feeling.
Jaehyun looks pleased with himself for having made him laugh so Doyoung sees his chance and takes it, “Nothing like that. Just wanted to use the restroom. That kimchi jigae we had last night is not helping my nerves right now.” the lie falls off easily and Doyoung feels guilty for lying to such an earnest face, to his gentle friend whose always on the lookout for his members.
Jaehyun makes a face, laughs that unique laugh of his and says, “Yuck, hyung, you best go then. We’re up in 20 minutes.” he pushes him toward the bathroom then and Doyoung laughs back, sounding almost hysterical to his ears before he escapes.
Doyoung locks the door behind him and the floodgates open. He’s so glad his makeup wasn’t done yet.
He’s always been a silent crier but he suddenly feels the urge to scream. To fully sob out loud just so there’s an outlet for all these feelings inside him.
And just because he hates himself, he opens up his phone again.
The post is flooded with messages from the fans, all in varying degrees of outrage.
One tweet says, “You’d think they’d remember that the band has 9 members and not 8 AFTER 7 YEARS.” and that makes Doyoung snort. The Czennie had a point.
Another says, “HOW DO YOU MISS A WHOLE PERSON? I hope you apologised to Doyoung properly. He doesn’t deserve this.” and this makes Doyoung cry more, because no, they hadn’t apologised and does he even deserve this level of devotion?
The one that makes him pause though is this: “This is the third time you’ve missed Doyoung’s photos. How hard is it to include all 9 members?”
Three times. That’s how many times he’s been forgotten.
In the span of 7 years, being forgotten three times doesn’t really seem like a big deal. Things like this happen, have happened to other members in the band but Doyoung doesn’t recall a time where anyone made a big deal out of it.
Greedy, you’re greedy so you think this is a big deal.
He hates that voice inside his head but he believes it. His presence in the band hasn’t been all that…eye catching.
He’s the loud, nagging member who annoys everyone. An easy target for entertainment. The perfect scapegoat for over-the-top reactions.
Doyoung knows the role he plays. He knows his worth. Or he thought he did.
Is he even in the right line of work?
What is he if not a singer? What purpose does he serve if not for being a performer? What can he—
Three knocks sound and then “Hyung? Your make-up noona told me to come and get you.” Jungwoo’s soft voice cuts through the din inside his head.
Doyoung hurriedly wipes his face and spends a solid minute dabbing at his eyes in vain. It’s hopeless; he looks like he’d witnessed a murder and gone into shock.
When he gets his breathing under control, he opens the door.
Jungwoo, who was getting ready to knock again, stops short. His eyes dart down to the phone still clutched in Doyoung’s hand and then back to Doyoung’s face.
His face relaxes into a sympathetic smile.
Unlike Jaehyun, he seems to know what the problem is.
The role Jungwoo plays is similar if not far more demeaning in the grand scheme of functions within the band. He’s considered the pretty boy, a soft, gentle, unidimensional entity who never gets angry. In the beginning, when they’d been baby-faced and dewey-eyed, freshly minted into the industry, Jungwoo had struggled to fully immerse himself in front of the camera. He hated hiding and the constant pressure to mask his feelings took a toll on his health. After years though, he’s a pro at it. He still hates it, (because Doyoung recognises the self-flagellation in his eyes) but he doesn’t stop performing his role.
“We’re up in 15, hyung.” He sounds apologetic.
When Doyoung doesn’t say anything, Jungwoo says, “Would you like a hug, hyung?”
Doyoung’s grateful he’d asked for permission because he doesn’t know what he’d have done if something else was taken out of his control at the moment.
He nods and Jungwoo’s arms loosely wrap around him. They’re similar in height which makes it easier for Doyoung to nuzzle into the side of the younger boy’s head for a brief moment.
The secluded area grants them a modicum of privacy that Doyoung fully takes advantage of, for about two whole minutes before he pulls back.
“Thanks, Woo-yah.” His voice thankfully doesn’t sound too bad, nothing a bottle of water can’t fix.
Jungwoo nods, his arm still around Doyoung’s waist, “Of course, hyung. I’ll walk you to your chair?” he asks, his head tilting cutely like a puppy, the mascot he’s known as.
Doyoung lets himself smile, a tilt of his lips “Yes, you can.”
He’s grateful for the assistance because his legs till feel a bit like jelly and he only hope that he won’t botch their performance.
He briefly catches sight of Taeyong, deep in conversation with one of their managers.
Their eyes meet as Doyoung sits down.
You okay?
Doyoung shoots him a thumbs up, attempts a smile that probably looks like a grimace.
No. But I will be.
Taeyong gives him an imperceptible nod before directing his attention back to the manager.
Doyoung wonders when he’ll catch onto his lies.
(Later, much later, after promotions end and right before they begin touring again, one of the managers corners him in the company building to apologise.
By this point, Doyoung has become numb to his invisibility. The apology is sincere enough but the damage has been done.
Besides, what was so bad about being left out anyway?)
Inevitably, Doyoung’s lies catch up to him.
And in the worst possible moment too.
Doyoung had thought he’d had his feelings of being useless under control. He’s lived long enough feeling like he has to fight for every good thing that comes his way. This isn’t the first time he’s felt like this. So what if he resents waking up every morning? What if he hates doing anything other than sleeping? (which is odd, because he’d been struggling with it just awhile ago and now all he does is sleep.) What if his limbs feel like they’re lined with cement? He is still able to talk, eat and perform. That is all that matters.
He refuses every invitation to socialise and turns down any and every chance at hanging out with his members. He hadn’t seen his Dream dongsaengs in so long. When Jeno texts him asking to hangout, he texts back a lame excuse about being busy and feels guiltier when the younger replies sweetly, asking him not to work too hard.
Doyoung rarely does anything now. They practice vigorously for their concert’s setlist so Doyoung is conveniently exhausted enough to just sleep after coming back home that no one questions it (he pretends not to notice whispered conversations between Taeyong and Johnny).
The younger members shoot him veiled glances of concern, Mark and Haechan always taking it upon themselves to keep him busy, never leaving him alone to stew in his thoughts. The teasing is tangibly, visibly taken down a peg (it’s not like Doyoung does much to be too much these days anyway) Jaehyun and Jungwoo offer him tiny treats throughout the day, thinking they’re being subtle but being entirely nice by taking care of him in their own way. Yuta latches on to him at any opportunity, back-hugging him and cracking jokes that make Doyoung smile a little more.
It’s a combination of multiple things that makes him crack during the concert. It’s the overwhelming feeling of being so entirely invisible, so replaceable. It’s the exhaustion of having to earn every morsel of affection that comes his way. It’s the constant questioning, the Am I not enough? How do I prove myself? What can I do to be useful? It’s because, as he says in the final ment, “I thought about how everything would disappear as tomorrow comes, so I got a bit teary.”
His members, his family, crowd around. He can still feel Taeyong’s arms around him from when he’d crumbled into his arms during Black Clouds, he can still remember Johnny lifting him up in a hug, and just warmth and so much love. He can feel all their hugs, see their bright smiles and fond eyes.
In the grand scheme of things, if Doyoung were to disappear tomorrow, the world would move on, eventually. But in that moment, for the first time in a long time, Doyoung believes that he is seen. He is loved, regardless of his utility, if the actions of his members were anything to go by in the past few months. If Doyoung were to disappear, he doesn’t doubt that the worlds of every individual he loves would end. They would all move on in their own time but he knows, they will be changed. It’s inevitable because that’s what love does. And boy, is he loved.
After the initial softness fades, Doyoung knows he’ll be teased for this (through a blurry vision, he’s already caught Jeno and Renjun taking photos of him crying, those little demons). But he cannot bring himself to care about it. He’ll deal with it later.
For now, Doyoung will have this.
When he wakes up the next morning, Doyoung finds it impossible to move.
It makes sense, the exhaustion, the heaviness but he still wishes he could’ve escaped it. As if it wasn’t enough that he’d had an emotionally draining night that had left him feeling like his insides had been scraped out.
The light filtering through his curtains shows that it be somewhere around mid-morning. They have the day off and Doyoung is ready to stay in bed the whole day.
His plan is thwarted when a knock sounds on his door.
“Come in.” his voice sounds strange, hoarse and disused. He doesn’t attempt to get up and drink any water.
From where he lies, Johnny comes into view, looking tentative and hopeful, his features bright in the otherwise dim room.
“Doyoung-ah, I made breakfast, do you want to join everyone?” He asks.
When Doyoung takes too long to respond, Johnny’s face falls.
“It’s alright, I’ll just-”
“Yes, I’ll join you, hyung,” Doyoung interrupts. Johnny perks up and in that moment (like so many moments before), Doyoung wonders how Johnny is their oldest. Because his hyung was just so endearing, damnit.
Johnny leaves to let him properly wake up, with a, “Take your time, we’re in no rush.” Doyoung is grateful because it’s definitely going to take some time for him to drag himself up.
Just as he’s contemplating turning back and going to sleep (he’ll make it up to his hyung somehow. Johnny will understand), the door opens again and this time it’s Taeyong.
“Hey,” he sits down on the bed near Doyoung’s feet, who wiggles his toes, a silent askance for help.
Taeyong understands and lifts his feet into his lap. It’s not his first time seeing Doyoung in this state.
“Johnny hyung has cooked enough to feed an army,” Taeyong says after a beat of silence.
Their’s amusement dancing in his eyes and Doyoung finds himself reflecting the humour enough to chuckle at the mental image his statement conjures.
“No one’s even up yet, except for us and Johnny hyung.” Taeyong continues when Doyoung doesn’t say anything.
More silence passes during which Taeyong starts massaging his feet in an attempt to bring some warmth into his cold feet.
“Hyung.”
Taeyong looks up, looks at Doyoung and apparently sees something that makes his face go softer than usual. He knows it’s serious when Doyoung uses the ‘h’ word.
“Yes, Doie?”
Doyoung’s throat closes up. He doesn’t know how to ask for it without feeling guilty. He doesn’t know how to say the words.
Taeyong seems to understand. He always does, especially when Doyoung has no idea what to do. He says, gently, “You’re allowed to ask for help, Doyoung-ah.”
When the first tear rolls down Doyoung’s cheek, Taeyong shifts closer, dislodging Doyoung’s feet. With strength that hides within his small frame, he hauls Doyoung into his arms. Doyoung goes willingly, accepting the embrace freely, even when his arms don’t quite have the energy to wrap around his hyung.
Taeyong holds him tighter, a hand cupping the back of his head and whispers, “You deserve to be helped, Doie-ah. You deserve to be happy.”
It’s exactly what Doyoung needed to hear. He breaks down.
A part of him is sick of crying so much but a bigger part accepts the catharsis.
“Hyung,” Doyoung sobs, his whole body shaking with the force of his meltdown.
Taeyong makes soft cooing noises, “It’s okay, let it out, Doyoung-ah.”
Even when Doyoung calms down, they stay attached. And maybe the lack of direct eye contact gives him the courage, Doyoung doesn’t particularly care what makes him say it but he finally says it.
“I need help, hyung,”
Taeyong pulls back to hold him by the shoulders then and asks, “Yeah? You sure?” It’s an out, because Taeyong knows, has seen Doyoung pick himself back up over and over again.
Doyoung appreciates it, appreciates him so much for offering it but he says, “Yeah, I’m sure.”
Taeyong’s shoulders lose the tension and his eyes go misty. He clears his throat, says, “Okay, Doie. I’ll talk to manager hyung and we’ll figure this out together, okay?”
Doyoung nods and even smiles. His heart cracks open when tears spill down Taeyong’s cheeks. He can’t help but tease, wishing to make the older smile, “I think I’ve cried enough for both of us, Yongie.”
Taeyong sniffles, his big boba eyes bright with happiness, “Yah, shut up. Just let me cry.” he whines and pulls Doyoung back into a hug.
This time, Doyoung forces his arms to move, cradling the older against him.
They stay like that until Johnny comes searching for them, wondering what was taking so long, who in the end, joins the hug ("How could you guys leave me out of this, huh? the betrayal!") sandwiching Doyoung from the other side.
Doyoung feels seen. He feels important. Maybe one day, he’ll be able to believe it too.