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As a general rule, Hyeongjun uses his strengths to his advantage. Being a guitarist–and a lead one at that–is competitive to a point. He has to know how to play his solos, other people’s solos, and sometimes even whole songs rely on his ability to remain on pitch, on time, with the right technique to keep the melody from going awry. It’s why he was the one chosen to be lead guitar in the first place, his skills weren’t enough to make him a vocalist like Jiseok or Seungmin, but his voice could carry through the squeals and chords of his guitar, his strength turned into notes and accents and staccatos on a page.
Hyeongjun knows he’s not exempt from this rule. He’s their lead, one of two guitar players in the team who sing through the notes he plays and the solo spots he resides in. He spends hours and hours in a small, dingy practice room, accompanied by nothing more than a small electric keyboard and more than enough outlets than he truly needs, playing solo after solo after solo. Hyeongjun plays and plays until his fingers turn rough and calloused, blooming an unnatural shade of ruby red underneath the imprints of metal strings that he’s become so accustomed to.
This skill, however, doesn’t save him from occasionally losing his mind. Getting the chords and progressions down was one thing, but going out in front of a crowd of screaming people and performing said chords and progressions was another thing entirely. Hyeongjun was good at playing guitar, yes, but he was never the type of person who could sway a crowd with silky smooth verses and even softer smiles. He prefers to be in the back, raised up just enough to see the crowd, but hidden in such a way that he wouldn’t have to think about said crowd watching him.
Which is why he’s currently sprawled out on the floor of their living room, staring up into nothingness. The only light that filters through the empty space is from the light Jungsu had set up in the corner, flickering with age and something else that Hyeongjun can’t exactly pin down.
The other members were out somewhere in the dorm or surrounding area; Hyeongjun knows for a fact that Jungsu and Jooyeon went out to buy drinks for their camera staff and that Gunil went to the studio to shoot some short form videos in the golden hour lighting, but it’s not uncommon for that to happen.
Their members always group up in certain pairs, whether it be by age or just by how familiar they are with each other; sort of like how Hyeongjun can always tell that Jungsu and Gunil are going out together based on the way Jungsu mirrors Gunil’s outfit, or the way Jiseok and Jooyeon felt comfortable enough around each other to go out in just their casual clothes, having known each other for more than long enough to drop the long forgotten formalities between them.
Hyeongjun would join them on occasion, heading out to the bookstore to pick up new mangas to read, or even following them to the arcade in the hopes of picking up more bunny plushies for his growing collection.
Today though, Hyeongjun’s held back. He feels a little bad, if he were to be completely honest. It’s probably the only off day they’re going to have in a long time, and here he is, drowning in his thoughts overtop a cold fake wooden floor.
He’d asked for Jooyeon and Jungsu to buy him a drink when they first left—preferably something with caffeine, but Jungsu had raised his eyebrow at him when he asked, so Hyeongjun doesn’t get his hopes up—then again, the two of them are also the least reliable when it comes to navigating the streets of Seoul on their own–they both have a tendency to follow their instincts a little too often–and the least reliable when it comes to returning in a timely manner, it seems.
Hyeongjun sighs, lifting up a hand only for gravity to pull it back down over his forehead with a loud smack. Gravity weighs down his every movement, keeping him pinned down to the floor like weighted chains. He can hear his armor ring click when he tries to move his hand again, the metal rising and falling with every little bend of his finger and he has no qualms in using the sound to fill the empty space around him.
Time passes slowly, like a thick syrup that crawls along his skin, passing each second as if it were an hour. Hyeongjun doesn’t know how long he’s been on the floor, doesn’t know how he even got there in the first place, but he does know that he needs to get up soon. The ache in his back from a few minutes ago—or was it an hour ago? two maybe?—is starting to pulse at his spine and with every pulse comes a smidge of motivation to get up and move to a surface that’s at least a little more comfortable.
Hyeongjun yawns, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth out of habitual courtesy. He doesn’t intend to, but he can already feel himself drifting off.
Now that he thinks about it, gravity isn’t the only issue here. There’s also his eyes that refuse to stay open, the cold that’s slowly beginning to seep into his bones, even the gentle humming of the air conditioning above him is enough to send him spiraling off into an all encompassing land of dreams. Maybe if he had a blanket, a plush or something, he would be able to drift off a little easier. To ease out of the world of the waking into a realm of silence, where he wouldn’t dream and where he would finally sleep sound.
“Hyeongjun?” A familiar voice calls out, easily filtering through the paper thin walls of the dorm and forcing Hyeongjun’s eyes open once the soft voice reaches his ears. It doesn’t take long for Seungmin’s shadow to appear from around the corner, eyebrows pinched into an expression that Hyeongjun can only decipher as concern piled up over something else.
Hyeongjun waves in response to his name, letting his ring clink once more to keep him from falling back into sleep’s open arms. It sits at the very edge of his brain, waiting for Hyeongjun to fall into it like an old friend, but he blinks the feeling away.
He forgot Seungmin was still home. The boy had a habit of heading out into town without telling anyone else, a habit he’d presumably acquired from Gunil long ago, so it’s a little surprising when he comes to sit by Hyeongjun’s head, setting down two mugs of steaming liquid on their coffee table.
Hyeongjun feels his fingers twitch at the mugs sitting on top of the table without anything protecting their bottoms, but he doesn’t have the energy to get up and slide the coasters Jungsu bought under them either, so he settles for simply lying still. As he’s been doing for the past while.
“Are you okay?” Comes Seungmin’s next question, his voice still soft as ever as he sneaks a hand under Hyeongjun’s shoulders. “You haven’t moved in a while, have you?”
There’s a split second in which Hyeongjun tenses up, not exactly used to being so touchy feely in the same way the rest of them seem to be so accustomed to, but it’s gone as soon as it’s there, lost to the feeling of his torso being hoisted upward.
“Let’s sit up for a bit–your back must hurt after all of the jumping yesterday. I told Jooyeon that you three should only jump once, but he keeps insisting on jumping at every opportunity he gets, that kid.” Seungmin mutters under his breath, his voice straining just a little at the end of his sentence as he pushes Hyeongjun upward. It makes him feel a bit like a child, if he’s being completely honest, getting lifted up off of the floor like this. Or perhaps it’s the feeling of being held that triggers the nostalgia that climbs through his chest?
Maybe he’s just finally lost it. That seems the most plausible option, at the very least.
He doesn’t even have the energy in him to be surprised when Seungmin lifts him up into his lap, readjusting his body until he’s carefully slouched up against Seungmin’s chest. They’re about the same height, but when they’re slouched in such a way, Hyeongjun’s head is relegated to lay in the crook of Seungmin’s neck and shoulder, easily finding his designated spot without too much of a fight.
It’s a bit awkward, though. This was unfamiliar territory for both of them: Hyeongjun was never one to initiate such close contact with someone and Seungmin was usually the one helpless in the face of clinginess, not the one cornering people let alone the one doing the coddling. That’s usually left to Jungsu or Gunil, or literally anyone else aside from them.
“Jun? Are you alright?” Seungmin calls out, the nickname sending waves of warmth echoing through his chest. Hyeongjun can’t help but lean into the feeling, sighing when Seungmin’s arms wrap around his middle, securing him in some sort of modified back hug. The pressure keeps him there, ensuring he doesn’t float away in his mind again, and Hyeongjun doesn’t fight it.
“Mhm.” Hyeongjun replies, bringing his hands up to join Seungmin’s. He knows that if he leans his head back enough he’d eventually land on Seungmin’s shoulder, but he doesn’t feel like testing his luck today. Especially not with Seungmin. The boy is too close to Hyeongjun’s heart for him to try anything too daring, sort of like Jiseok and Jooyeon in a way, but at the same time not.
Is this what it feels like to be a stuffed animal? If so, he wouldn’t mind trading places with one of the plushies at the foot of Seungmin’s bed every once in a while if it meant he could take advantage of the quiet moments like this. He even takes the chance to snuggle closer, relishing in the warmth that Seungmin gives off through his plaid pajamas.
Hyeongjun likes Seungmin, to put it plainly. Being with Seungmin makes his mind calm, forces him to confront the world as it is instead of worrying over the things that he knows he can’t control. He’s soft spoken to a point, constantly aware of who he’s speaking to and how to approach situations without overthinking in a way that Hyeongjun is most certainly guilty of. He’s Hyeongjun’s exact opposite in that way, and that draws him in closer and closer, up until they’re nearly on top of each other, hands interlaced and cheeks tinted red.
It’s a similar situation to how they are now, actually, Hyeongjun seated in Seungmin’s lap while the older boy hugs him from behind. While uncommon, and most certainly unfamiliar, Hyeongjun finds comfort in it nonetheless. Gravity pulls him in, and who is he to resist it?
Seungmin is humming along to some tune behind him, his voice coming out in smooth lower tones, creating harmonies to the melody lines Hyeongjun has ingrained in his mind.
“Ah, I nearly forgot.” Seungmin mutters, unlacing his hands from when Hyeongjun holds them. He reaches behind them to grab something, temporarily setting Hyeongjun off balance, and for a split second he truly thinks that he’s going to fall forward on his face.
His balance returns as soon as Seungmin does, encasing him once more in the syrupy sweet warmth that he’s come to crave. The only difference between then and now is that now Seungmin holds two steaming mugs in his hands, each filled to the top with some dark liquid.
“I found Jiseok’s stash of hot chocolate in one of the upper cabinets.” Seungmin says in lieu of an invitation, bringing one of the mugs closer to Hyeongjun’s hand. Hyeongjun grabs on to it purely out of habit, his hands easily finding purchase along the smooth ceramic surface as Seungmin continues to speak. “I don’t think he’ll notice two packs missing.”
Hyeongjun laughs at that, at the innocent way Seungmin smiles when admitting to crimes that Jiseok would most probably chase him around the dorms for. He leans his head back against Seungmin’s shoulder, letting his eyes trace along the gentle slope of Seungmin’s nose, taking in every mole and smile line that he can spot in the artificial low lighting.
“Jiseok might murder you.” He says, lifting his head and dropping it down again to get Seungmin’s attention. “He spent his own money on that, you know.”
“Uh oh,” Seungmin responds intelligently, turning his head ever so slightly to lock eyes with Hyeongjun. The effect is immediate, heat rushing up Hyeongjun’s face all the way up to the tips of his ears, and he finds himself averting his eyes.
He can feel Seungmin’s laughter before he hears it, the vibrations echoing through his chest just mere seconds before his ears catch onto the melodic sound. A quick glance at his face reveals his smile, all soft cheeks and starry eyes, but Hyeongjun knows better. There’s a bit of mischief hiding in those eyes, small as it may be. “Guess we’ll just have to finish it off before he comes back to catch us, huh?”
“I guess you’re right.” Hyeongjun looks down at the mug in his hand, gently blowing away at the steam at the top. Seungmin is quick to mimic him, using one hand to hold Hyeongjun’s while the other brings his own mug closer to his face.
The hot chocolate goes down exactly as Hyeongjun expects it to. It’s hot to the touch, warming him from the inside out in a way that reminds him of home; of gentle winters spent playing out in the snow with his mom, harsher winds blowing the snow back into their faces as they build little snowmen along the edge of their porch, and of artificially warmed nights spent curled up at his dad’s side, dropping little marshmallows into the liquid despite his dad’s insistence on not giving him too much sugar.
Of course, this nostalgia doesn’t just cover his parents. Within the winter there’s the also the memories of his dearest friends—Gunil clumsily slipping over every patch of ice in his path on the way to the convenience store and Jiseok gleefully recording his every move, and Jooyeon and Jungsu dragging him out into the freshly fallen snow to make little snow ducks with the plastic mold they bought.
It’s the little moments that bring him joy, the small little things that give him energy to move again, to become the voice of nine people. No matter his exhaustion, he knows that his friends will hold him when he’s tired, engulf him in a warmth that lasts until the very last filming of the day.
Hyeongjun leans back into Seungmin’s loose embrace, setting his mug down on the floor to ensure it didn’t spill. There’s an overwhelmingly strong feeling of warmth that’s expanding, overlapping and stretching out from his chest cavity all the way out to the very edge of his fingertips. He wants to share it, to let Seungmin be enveloped in the same way he was—
“Jun?” Seungmin calls out, resting his chin on Hyeongjun’s shoulder. “Are you already done? I’ll finish the rest of you don’t want it anymore.”
“No,” Hyeongjun interrupts, “I’ll finish it in a minute. Just let me have this moment.”
“Alright, don’t let it get too cold though.” Seungmin says, and Hyeongjun smiles at the pout he can hear in his voice. He can practically envision the look on Seungmin’s face, all soft frowns and even softer eyes and doesn’t resist the urge to take Seungmin’s free hand into his own, poking and prodding at it until he hears the oh so familiar breathy giggles behind him.
It doesn’t take them long to finish their drinks, Hyeongjun does take a little longer than originally intended but that’s neither here nor there. The mugs end up set to the side anyway with both of their focus set on each other rather than the empty ceramics.
Hyeongjun has come to learn that a lot of things are quite difficult to do in dim lighting. A few major ones being the inability to look Seungmin directly in the eye, and trying to figure out where Seungmin’s foot was in relation to his own, among other things.
It’s something about being so close to him that has Hyeongjun’s stomach turning in on itself—the way Seungmin looks at him without a hint of malice or even annoyance, the gentle way he holds Hyeongjun’s hand in his own, even the way he purposefully leans forward to capture Hyeongjun in his embrace, holding him tight, but not tight enough to hurt.
“Are you alright?” Seungmin asks again after the moment passes, hand still holding tight to Hyeongjun’s. “I thought the hot chocolate would pull you out of your mental maze for a while.”
Hyeongjun just nods, a smile on his face. “I’m okay.”
And he really, truly is. No matter the way his heart skips a few beats, or how his stomach flips on its side when Seungmin smiles back at him, Hyeongjun knows he’s okay. He knows his voice will be there tomorrow morning when he wakes up, knows that Jiseok will probably throw a fit about his hot chocolate, and knows that Seungmin will probably come to hide behind him when Jiseok eventually comes to question them both.
And he’ll laugh. He’ll laugh and joke along, telling Jiseok that they never touched it, locking hands with Seungmin behind his back.
And he’ll be okay.