Chapter Text
The lights in the practice room are so harsh, they might as well be screaming at him. They are only two hours into practice, but to Jisung the scent of sweat is more pungent than it should be for someone who’s been training for almost three years now. And the bass of the music coming from the speakers is thrumming in every cell of his body in a way that is anything but enjoyable.
Of course what came after seems almost inevitable in hindsight, but back then the times he thought about consequences in any sense were about as rare as him leaving the studio before Chan.
His hand is shaky around the crumbled water bottle he gulps down and the splatters that land on his overheated face don‘t bring relief but only serve to irritate him further. „You know, you have to give him time to finish his verse before you jump. Pushing him will only lead to you getting hurt.” He wipes his face and looks at Minho, who in turn looks at him with a stoic expression. If it were Hyunjin he’d reply something like “It’s your choreo that makes me jump. Not my fault you decided to put in between our verses.”. But although Minho is new to them and Jisung can’t see past his round eyes, the way they are narrowed at him now makes him fear that his response would sting much deeper. So he just dumps his water bottle as Chan yells the end of break and gets into position.
He feels his eyes on him in the mirror the entire time and doesn’t seem to be the only one who notices. Chan watches him and his face openly portrays concern and maybe that is worse. He feels like they are waiting for him to explode.
And explode he does.
The next time Hyunjin’s head is still tilted upwards before his verse he jumps over him anyway, missing him by a hair’s breadth and lands on his feet so violently that he’d be embarrassed if he weren’t so pissed.
“You’re not even rapping right now, what is so fucking hard about keeping your head down?” He knows he’s almost shouting but he doesn’t care, fed up by Minho thinking he needs to be lectured on the choreo he knows by heart, by Chan watching him, protecting him. And fed up by fucking Hyunjin who isn’t even the one who’s spitting his verse coming from the speakers. Hyunjin who’s fucking smirking and to Jisung it’s clear he must’ve done it on purpose.
“Well, since you wrote those verses, why should I be responsible for the bad timing?”
It’s what he expected of course, what he wanted maybe. “Oh so you’re saying you can’t handle it? I thought your rapping improved after - I don’t know - months of getting scolded? Maybe next time I don't miss your head and your pretty face.”
He vaguely hears Chan trying to get them to stop, but all he sees is Hyunjin’s face and how it freezes before he starts to smirk again and Jisung has a feeling he’ll regret what he said: “I can improve my rapping, but you will always look fucking ridiculous when you dance. That’s nothing you can change.” He almost looks calm, fucking calculating like he knows how hard that hits him. Because he does, because everybody knows this about Jisung. He’s confident in almost anything he does, but he used to hate how despite all efforts, sometimes he looks silly like a schoolgirl from an anime, even when their legs are supposed to be long, elegant or simply straight and powerful. When he wants to be anything but cute or silly. He grabs Hyunjin and shoves him to the floor, but before he can decide between hitting or strangling him, Changbin gets between them and he feels himself get pulled backwards by someone else.
“You are so fucking despicable. I hope you choke trying to get your way through the syllables. See how far your stupid face and your graceful dance lines get you.”
He’s definitely shouting now: “Let go of me, let me go!!”
His ears are ringing and he barely registers someone trying to calm him. Hyunjin’s face is white and his smirk is replaced with a look not unlike fear. It makes him feel satisfied for a second before he realizes that he isn’t scared of but for him. Because suddenly there isn’t enough air and his vision is blurry and he doesn’t know what he’s cursing - gasping - at Hyunjin anymore. He gets dragged backward until he’s sitting and someone puts their arms around his side in a hug that’s way too tight and still makes him feel nothing. He feels a hand on his chest that’s pushing and letting up, pushing and letting up and he starts to gulp down and push out air, trying to match the rhythm.
~
The ringing fades and the practice room returns with all the lights and sounds and smells, except they're more muted now and there is no music. “It’s okay, just breathe.” It’s Chan’s hand on his chest that he must have gripped along the way and he lets it go to wipe angry, itchy tears off his chin and nose. The arms around him let up and one rests on his shoulder as Minho comes into view. Of course it’s them. He hates how well they know him and wonders if Chan secretly warned Minho, educated him on all the ways he’s fucked up ever since they’ve been hanging out. In the mirror behind Minho’s face is his own, red and splotchy, sweaty hair sticking up every which way and tears running down his cheeks that don’t seem to stop any time soon. “Everyone else is home. I’ve canceled the rest of practice.” Chan says, when he looks around at the empty room.
“You know if I weren’t so worried I’d lecture the hell out of you. And I know you don’t want to talk about it, but you have to let me say this. You need to pull yourself together. We are all lacking in some ways but we know that ourselves. What you said to him was just cruel and unacceptable, even if he provoked you. And if something is not working it’s never just one person’s fault. You weren’t in the right headspace even before we started. And even if you are on edge, you can’t act like a dumb teenager anymore. That has to stop Jisung.” Chan’s gaze is firm and his tone of voice stern, but mostly disappointed.
Despite his efforts to not let more tears spill, they do anyway and his voice is wobbly when he says: “I’m really trying hyung. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so fucking embarrassed, but he just always gets under my skin. It’s like he knows when I’m vulnerable and just provokes me until I snap. And he can’t say shit like that. He just can’t.”
He’s almost forgotten about Minho until he feels the hand on his shoulder give him a squeeze: “For what it’s worth, I think your dancing is great.”. His smile is awkward and he’s blinking too quickly to come off unaffected. The scoff that comes out of Jisung is wet and ugly, but close enough to a laugh. “I’ll talk to him too of course, but it’s the both of you that need to talk. We can’t afford to be this divided so close to the show. If they get even a whiff of any quarrels they’ll find a way to use it to make you look bad. And while they won’t kick you out permanently, you could lose a lot of potential fans and the group could gain more haters than supporters, even before we debut. “ Jisung nods at Chan and is pulled into a quick hug before he stands up.
“Right, let’s get you home.” he concludes and walks over to their bags.
“Actually…have you eaten today?” Minho asks and Jisung only realizes a beat later that he’s speaking to him.
“Uhh, I don’t know…I had a shake?” he answers, dumbfounded.
“Well I think you need some real food before you get back to the dorm. You shouldn’t face any conflict while being hungry.” Minho looks at Chan and Jisung doesn’t like how they seem to have a conversation he isn’t in on, right in front of him, probably about him. “Right, yeah. I have to get to the dorm though, so I’ll see you later, yeah?” Chan has the courtesy to look at him this time. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring him back in one piece.” Minho answers next to him.
He’s shivering from the cooling sweat and exhaustion as he stands up and goes to grab his things. “You don’t have to do this.” he says and his voice sounds so small now, scratchy and wobbly. “I know, but I am anyway. Here.” Minho hands him his jacket. It’s soft and worn. Black sweater fabric faded to a dark grey at the seams. “I just…you must think that I hate him now, but I don’t. He…” “It’s okay, you don’t need to explain yourself to me. If you still want to talk later, I’ll be there.” Minho grabs his own bag and looks back at him, holding the door. When Jisung comes over to him he smooths his hair down, brushing a few strands in his face and hands him a facemask. “It’s not very crowded at this hour, but it’s better to be careful.” he murmurs and walks out, Jisung trailing behind.
He considers asking where they’re going, but any place Minho has shown him before was good and this is not the time to question his taste in food.
~
When they step out of the building it’s dark outside and Jisung has no idea what time it is. It’s even more chilly now and he’s glad for Minho’s jacket and borrows his hands in its pockets. Minho’s leading them away from the busy street until they reach a shop in a hidden alley with fogged up windows. The smell inside is so nice he almost feels nauseous and the warm light so comforting, he fears he’s going to cry again. “Sit down, I’ll get the owner.” Minho says, dropping his bag on a chair and making his way to the back of the shop.
As Jisung sits down he takes a look around and feels transported in time. They are the only guests and photos on a wall suggest a family business that has long left its great days behind. The shop seems to be open for sentimental reasons only. “Thank you.” he hears Minho say as he emerges from a swinging door, an elderly man following behind with a tray of two steaming cups. He sets the cups down on the table and looking at Jisung asks: “So kimchi stew for both of you?” Jisung is so overwhelmed with gratitude for Minho, all he does is nod. He feels guilty for how considerate Minho is. How he seems to know him even better than Jisung does himself. Or maybe their tastes really are that similar.
Minho does something on his phone as he wraps his hands around the cup and takes a sip of what he recognises as tea.
Minho never expects small talk. It’s what made hanging out with him so easy. He stares into the tea until he hears the door swinging open again and what must be the owner returns with a tray full of food. “Not spicy for you, yes?” he says as he puts the bowl down in front of him. Jisung looks at Minho who only blinks at him and manages a choked up: “Yes, thank you.”
The stew is so comforting he feels guilty again. His hands have stopped shivering and his mind is less frantic, but all he’s said to Hyunjin and the way he must have looked comes back to him much clearer now. “I don’t know what I should say to him. I don’t even understand why I feel so provoked by everything he does.” He looks at Minho who hums and says: “You are really similar. You have high opinions of yourself and you’re very perfectionistic.” “So…you think we’re arrogant?” “Well, do you think you’re arrogant?“ “No! What makes you think that?” Minho raises his eyebrows at him: “Someone your age with admittedly great visuals and a lot of potential comes to the company. He’s not great at rap but he’s improving quickly just like in all other areas. He gets along with everyone, just as you do. Now Jisung, why don’t you get along with him? Either you see him as a threat or you have the dumbest crush on him.” He’s smirking now. “I what? No?!?” “Are you asking me?” “No!!” “Wow, for a rapper you truly have great vocabulary.”
The sarcasm isn’t lost on Jisung. “So I’m arrogant just because I don’t - what - like him?” he asks. “No. You are because someone your age is improving in areas you are more proficient in. Although you have a lot more experience, you still think you need to prove just how much better you are.”
“But why would that only apply to him? Also it’s not like he has made an effort to be nice to me either. He clearly provokes me all the time.”
Minho gives him one of his unreadable looks again and says: “Well firstly, clearly you can’t be mean to the babies. And Felix barely knows Korean, so he’s not a competition for you. And the rest of us are too old and respected for you.”
“Why do you hang out with me if you think I’m such a bad person?” Minho frowns at him: “I don’t think you are a bad person. I just think you are have been in the competition for too long. Also, I like to think the reason you haven’t snapped at me yet is simply because I am way above you.” His smirk is back, but Jisung barely returns it.. He’s right. He’s so damn right that Jisung wants to hide somewhere. He can’t lose this. He can’t go back to Malaysia now that he’s worked with Chan and Changbin for so long, now that 3racha is a unit. All he sees when someone improves faster than him is his parents questioning the seriousness of Jisung‘s future. One year they said. He only has a couple of months left now. He hopes it’s enough.
„Yes, thank you.“ Jisung blinks himself back to the present to see Minho pass their empty bowls to the owner. He looks at him and says: „I‘ll go pay and then we can leave.” Jisung watches him follow the man to the back of the shop. There’s an old clock on the wall that reads almost one in the morning. He dared to hope that the others are asleep now if he didn’t know they all suffer from some sort of insomnia.
~
Jisung can see their breath as they make their way to the dorm building. It’s so cold now, even Minho has burrowed his hands in the pockets of his sweats. “You should take back your jacket.” Minho stops next to him. “No, you keep it until we’re at the dorm. Chan will complain if I show up with you rattling your teeth.” “Hyung, thank you. And sorry for all the trouble.” His eyes look so big in the dark, especially with the rest of his face covered in his bangs and the face mask. “It’s fine. Everyone goes through this at some point. It’s not easy on the ego, accepting that there will always be someone better than you. Ah and I was craving kimchi stew anyway. You just have to buy me a meal some other time.”
The laugh that comes out of Jisung now is more honest. They both know Minho won’t let him. He puts his arm through Minho’s before he can overthink it. And although he feels him glaring, he doesn’t make a move to remove Jisung’s arm himself.
~
When they reach the dorm, Minho insists on going up the elevator with him lest Jisung were abducted and Minho forever damned by Chan. And he is glad, because the shivering returns with every floor they pass on their way up. Minho must have texted Chan on their way up, because the door to the dorm is open when they arrive. He looks tired and reminds Jisung of an overworked father. “He’s asleep now. I think it’s best of you two talk tomorrow, yeah? Also, I don’t want you walking home now, Minho. Staff would kill me. Just stay for tonight.”
They take off their shoes at the door and make their way inside. It’s quiet in a way that feels alienating. Chan sits down at the kitchen table in front of his laptop. “You can take the couch. Jisung can get you something to sleep in.” It stings how he isn’t addressed directly. But maybe he deserves that. He nods and makes his way to the room he shares with Chan, Changbin and Hyunjin.
Minho has sat down on the couch when he returns. He hands him a towel and one of his last set of clean clothes: “I thought you might want to shower before you sleep. You can go first.” He blinks at him slowly as Jisung puts down an extra pillow and a blanket, sitting down next to him. “Alright, yes. Thanks.”
When Minho leaves he is hit with such a sudden wave of exhaustion, he can barely keep his eyes open. His phone has died on him long ago and he’s too tired to get up and charge it. The only thing keeping him awake is the way his heart still beats too quickly in his chest. He wonders how his body manages to work up the energy to make him shiver. They haven’t turned on the lights and the only source is the blue-whitish hue coming from Chan’s laptop in the kitchen.
He is startled out of his trance by an icy hand on his neck and one of Minho’s soft chuckles. “Your turn, you make my couch sweaty.”
Under the water he feels so fragile that all he can think about is hitting his head on the tiles. He rushes through the shower and hasn’t even dried his hair properly as he stands in front of his room, but suddenly he can’t go in. He considers sleeping in the bathroom before he makes his way to the living room.
Minho’s face is illuminated by the screen and when Jisung stops in front of him, he just stares.
With a sigh he sits up and takes Jisung’s towel: “If you’re going to stay here, you can’t drop water everywhere. You’ll get me sick.”
He pushes at Jisung’s shoulder until he sits on the carpet in front of him and starts to dry his hair. He’s much more gentle and Jisung thinks this is as much of an invitation to stay as he can get.
The couch isn’t big, but the both of them aren’t with the way they watch what they eat and somehow Jisung manages to lie next to Minho without elbowing him in the ribs. He’s turned away from him, hands clasped together and so tense that he jumps as Minho loosely lays an arm around him over the blanket. He feels his chest swell with an inhale and mimics the rise with his own and a shiver runs through his entire body from the relief.
“Just sleep. Tomorrow will come even if you try to break your brain by thinking too hard about it.” His words tickle his neck and in defiance of Minho’s words, he takes his arm from over the blanket and hugs it his chest.
“Good night hyung.” he says, barely audible.
After a while the response comes, just as quiet: “Good night, Jisungah.”