Work Text:
The speakers crackled faintly before the music began again, the sharp beats cutting through the stillness of the late night. Euijoo’s feet moved almost automatically now, muscle memory taking over as his body mirrored the rhythm. His gaze was locked on the reflection in the mirror—not on himself, but on Nicholas, who stood opposite him with his back to the crowd-facing wall.
It suddenly lights up the world, and I feel the start of a new day.
It should’ve looked seamless. That was the point of the choreography, wasn’t it? Their movements were supposed to mirror each other perfectly, two halves creating a whole. But it didn’t feel seamless. Each turn, each step, each movement—they were out of sync, just enough to make the entire routine feel off.
“Stop, stop,” Nicholas’s voice broke through the music as he spun around to pause the track on his phone. He was speaking in Japanese, which wasn’t something he typically did with just the two of them. His accent curled around the words in that familiar way, but there was no teasing in his tone this time.
Euijoo let his arms drop to his sides, sucking in a deep breath. Sweat dripped down his temple, and his legs ached from hours of repetition. “What now?”
Nicholas sighed and ran a hand through his damp hair, shaking his head. “You’re still ahead of the beat.”
“I’m not ahead,” Euijoo shot back, sharper than he intended. He wiped at his face with his sleeve, trying to will the irritation out of his voice. “You’re too slow.”
Nicholas turned to face him fully, his brow furrowing. “I’m not slow. You’re not matching me, Juju. We’re supposed to be in sync, and you keep rushing.”
“I’m not rushing!” The words came out louder than Euijoo expected, bouncing off the mirrored walls. His chest tightened as he clenched his fists at his sides. “Maybe if you weren’t so focused on pointing out my mistakes, we’d actually get somewhere.”
Nicholas blinked, his lips parting in surprise before they pressed into a thin line. His jaw tensed, and when he spoke, his voice was quieter but no less cutting. “I’ve been here just as long as you, trying just as hard. Don’t act like I’m not serious about this.”
Euijoo bit the inside of his cheek, his heart pounding. He knew Nicholas was right, but the frustration and exhaustion were too much. The day had already been long—too many schedules, too many takes, and now this. “If you were serious, we wouldn’t still be here,” he snapped, instantly regretting it.
Nicholas stiffened, his eyes narrowing. “Wow. Okay.” He turned away, shaking his head again, his hands on his hips as he faced the mirrors. “You know what? Fine. Maybe you should just go if you’re so sure it’s my fault.”
Euijoo’s chest tightened further, a mix of guilt and anger bubbling up in his throat. He opened his mouth to reply but stopped himself. Instead, he grabbed his water bottle and slung his bag over his shoulder, the strap biting into his skin. “Fine,” he muttered, his voice low but sharp. “Figure it out on your own.”
Before Nicholas could respond, Euijoo was already walking toward the door, his footsteps echoing in the empty room. He didn’t look back as he pushed the door open, letting it swing shut behind him with a heavy thud.
The night air was sharp against Euijoo’s flushed skin as he stepped outside the building. He didn’t bother waiting for a car, his legs carrying him forward on autopilot. The streets were mostly empty, save for the occasional hum of a passing vehicle or the faint glow of distant streetlights.
His breath came out in uneven puffs of mist as he walked, his bag slung over one shoulder. Each step felt heavier than the last, the events of the night replaying on a loop in his head. The argument, Nicholas’s stiff posture, the tight set of his jaw—all of it lingered, twisting Euijoo’s stomach into knots.
“Stupid,” he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the sound of his sneakers scuffing against the pavement. The word wasn’t directed at Nicholas but at himself. He knew he’d overreacted. He always did when he was exhausted, when the pressure felt like it was weighing him down from all sides.
The walk was longer than he expected, or maybe it just felt that way.
When Euijoo stepped inside the dorm building, the familiar quiet wrapped around him like a heavy blanket. It was the kind of silence that came when everyone was fast asleep, with no music playing, no laughter echoing through the halls, and no lights other than the dim one in the entryway.
He crouched down to untie his sneakers, his hands moving slower than usual. One by one, he slipped his shoes off and lined them up neatly beside the others. Even in the dim light, he could make out which shoes belonged to which member.
Maki’s bright sneakers, scuffed from his endless energy, leaned against the wall as if he’d kicked them off in a hurry. Jo’s clean and perfectly placed trainers sat beside them, almost too neat. Harua’s worn slip-ons rested just a little further out of line than the others.
And then there was the glaring absence of Nicholas’s shoes.
Euijoo’s stomach churned, and he clenched his jaw as he straightened up. He had expected—no, hoped—to see Nicholas’s black sneakers in their usual spot. Maybe it would’ve meant that Nicholas had come home before him, that he wasn’t still at the studio.
But the space was empty.
He stepped further inside, letting his bag slip off his shoulder and onto the floor with a soft thud. The tension in his chest hadn’t eased since the walk home, and now it felt even heavier. He didn’t need to be in the same room to know how stubborn Nicholas could be. He’d probably stayed behind, still practicing even though Euijoo had left him alone.
Euijoo sighed and ran a hand through his hair, rubbing at the back of his neck as he made his way toward his shared room.
The door creaked faintly as he pushed it open, just enough to slip inside. He immediately spotted Maki sprawled across his bed, one arm hanging off the side, his face buried in his pillow. Across the room, Jo was curled up neatly under his blanket, his back turned toward the door.
The faint rustling of bedsheets and the occasional muffled snore from Maki were the only sounds in the room. It was peaceful, but Euijoo couldn’t bring himself to feel calm.
He walked to his bed in the corner, his steps careful to avoid the floorboards he knew would creak. Sitting down heavily on the edge of his mattress, he rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands.
His body ached for rest, his legs sore from hours of practice and the long walk home. But his mind refused to settle. All he could think about was the argument—Nicholas’s frustrated tone, the way his voice had softened into something almost disappointed, the way he’d turned away.
Euijoo’s eyes flicked toward the empty wall where Nicholas’s bed would be if they shared a room. He hated the thought of Nicholas alone, still practicing until his body gave out, but at the same time, Euijoo’s stubbornness held him back from sending a message or going back to check.
He laid back against his pillow, staring up at the ceiling. His chest felt too tight, like he couldn’t quite catch his breath. The dorm was quiet, too quiet, and every second stretched longer than the last.
It felt wrong to be here without knowing where Nicholas was.
Euijoo turned onto his side, pulling the blanket up over his shoulder. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to fall asleep. But no matter how hard he tried, the guilt gnawed at the edges of his mind, refusing to let him rest.
His mind wouldn’t stop racing, replaying the night’s events over and over. Each scene felt sharper in the quiet: the heated words, the look in Nicholas’s eyes, and the heavy thud of the practice room door closing behind him.
He sighed, pulling his blanket tighter around his shoulders, though it didn’t do much to ease the chill that crept into his chest. His breathing was steady, but inside, it felt like everything was unraveling.
And then, just as he was starting to wonder if he should go back to the studio, he heard it.
The faintest sound of footsteps echoed through the dorm—soft and deliberate. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for Euijoo to recognize them instantly.
Nicholas.
He knew his boyfriend’s steps anywhere, the subtle rhythm, the weight behind them. Nicholas always walked like he had somewhere important to be, but there was something slower, heavier in his pace tonight.
Euijoo sat up before he even realized what he was doing. His heart thudded in his chest, his earlier frustration melting into something softer, something closer to worry.
The faint shuffle of footsteps continued, moving toward the living room. Euijoo hesitated for a moment, his fingers gripping the edge of his blanket. Part of him wanted to stay in bed, to give Nicholas space, but the other part of him couldn’t ignore the pull in his chest, the need to see him, to fix the gap that had formed between them tonight.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood. His feet moved on their own, carrying him toward the door as quietly as he could. He glanced at Maki and Jo, still fast asleep, before slipping out into the hallway.
The living room light was dim, casting a soft glow across the space. Euijoo’s footsteps slowed as he reached the corner, peeking around just enough to see Nicholas.
Nicholas was sitting on the couch, his head bowed, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. His hair was still damp from practice, sticking messily to his forehead, and his shoulders were hunched like the weight of the world was pressing down on him.
Euijoo’s breath caught in his throat. He’d seen Nicholas tired, seen him frustrated, even seen him upset. But this—this quiet stillness, this defeated posture—felt entirely different.
Without thinking, Euijoo stepped into the room.
“Nicho,” he said softly, his voice breaking the silence.
Nicholas’s head shot up at the sound, his wide, glassy eyes meeting Euijoo’s. For a moment, neither of them moved, the tension from earlier lingering in the space between them.
But then Euijoo saw the tears on Nicholas’s cheeks, the way they caught the faint light, and everything else faded away.
Euijoo didn’t hesitate. He crossed the room in just a few steps, his chest tightening with each tear he saw slipping down Nicholas’s face.
He dropped to his knees in front of him, his movements gentle but hurried, and knelt so close their legs were nearly touching. For a moment, he just looked at him—really looked.
Nicholas’s eyes were red-rimmed, his lashes wet with tears, and his usually bright expression was weighed down by exhaustion and frustration. His lips were pressed into a tight line, trembling just slightly as he struggled to hold himself together.
And yet, even like this, Euijoo couldn’t help but think how beautiful Nicholas was. The way his hair fell messily over his forehead, the way his sharp features softened in the dim light—it was enough to make Euijoo’s heart ache.
But the thought came crashing down almost as quickly as it arrived.
This wasn’t the time to admire him, not when Euijoo was the reason he was like this.
“Nicho,” Euijoo whispered, his voice unsteady. Slowly, he reached out, his hands hovering just a moment before cupping Nicholas’s face. His thumbs brushed against his tear-streaked cheeks, and Nicholas’s breath hitched at the touch, his wide eyes meeting Euijoo’s again.
Euijoo’s heart broke all over again. “Hey, look at me,” he murmured, his tone as soft as he could make it.
Nicholas hesitated, but when Euijoo gently tilted his chin upward, he let his teary gaze lock onto him. Euijoo’s hands trembled slightly as he held him, the warmth of Nicholas’s skin grounding him despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling in his chest.
“I’m sorry,” Euijoo said, his voice cracking under the weight of the words. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Nicholas didn’t respond right away. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but all that came out was a shaky exhale.
Euijoo leaned closer, his forehead almost touching Nicholas’s as he studied his face, searching for any sign of what he was feeling. When the silence stretched too long, he closed the distance just slightly and pressed the softest kiss to the tip of Nicholas’s nose.
The gesture was instinctive, barely planned, but it lingered in the air between them like a thread of reassurance.
Nicholas’s shoulders shook under Euijoo’s hands, and another tear slipped free, trailing down his cheek. Euijoo wiped it away gently, his thumbs brushing over the curve of his jaw.
“You’re allowed to be upset,” Euijoo continued softly. “But please don’t think you have to hold it in, especially not with me.”
Nicholas closed his eyes for a moment, his brows furrowing as if trying to hold himself together. But Euijoo felt the way his face tilted just slightly into his palms, the way he leaned into the touch like it was something he needed more than words.
Nicholas let out a shaky breath, his eyes still closed, his face pressed into the warmth of Euijoo’s hands. For a moment, it was like the world had paused around them, the silence only broken by the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen and the faint sound of their breathing.
But then Nicholas’s lips quivered, and he shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice raw and strained. “I’m so… so tired, Juju.”
The nickname made Euijoo’s chest ache. Nicholas rarely used it when he was upset, and hearing it now only deepened the pang of guilt twisting inside him.
“You don’t have to be sorry,” Euijoo murmured, brushing his thumb against Nicholas’s cheek again. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I shouldn’t have—”
Nicholas shook his head again, cutting him off. He opened his eyes, and the vulnerability in them hit Euijoo like awave.
“It’s not just about tonight,” Nicholas said, his voice trembling. “It’s… everything. I feel like I can’t do anything right anymore.”
Euijoo frowned, his hands steadying on Nicholas’s face as he leaned closer. “What do you mean?”
Nicholas hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor like he was ashamed to say it out loud. “The dance,” he finally muttered. “The recording. The interviews. I… I’m trying so hard, but no matter what I do, it’s not enough. I mess up the moves, or my voice cracks, or I say the wrong thing…”
His voice cracked on the last word, and he squeezed his eyes shut again, as if trying to will away the tears. But it didn’t work. They kept falling, silent but heavy, streaking down his cheeks and slipping between Euijoo’s fingers.
“I thought… if I stayed at practice longer, if I worked harder, maybe I could fix it. Maybe I could be better. But even then, I couldn’t—”
He cut himself off with a sharp inhale, his breathing uneven as his shoulders trembled.
Euijoo felt his throat tighten, the weight of Nicholas’s words sinking deep into his chest. He hated seeing him like this—so defeated, so unlike the confident and teasing Nicholas everyone knew.
“Hey,” Euijoo said gently, tilting Nicholas’s face up again so their eyes met. “You’re not failing, Nicho. You’re not messing up.”
Nicholas let out a bitter laugh, but it was short-lived, fading into another shaky breath. “It doesn’t feel like that,” he muttered.
Euijoo leaned forward, closing the small distance between them until their foreheads touched. He stayed there, letting their breaths mingle, his voice low and steady. “You’re allowed to feel this way. But I need you to know… you’re not alone in this. You’re not carrying it all by yourself.”
Nicholas’s breath hitched, and for a moment, it felt like he might pull away. But then he let out a choked sound, leaning into Euijoo fully, his hands coming up to grip the fabric of Euijoo’s sweatshirt like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
Nicholas didn’t respond right away, but Euijoo felt the way his grip tightened, the way his head buried into Euijoo’s shoulder as if he needed the comfort more than anything else.
Euijoo held him tighter, his hands running soothingly through Nicholas’s hair, grounding him, offering the silent reassurance that he was there. The weight of Nicholas’s emotions—frustration, exhaustion, insecurity—seemed to pour into him, and he absorbed it all, as if he could bear it for both of them.
The warmth of their embrace was the only thing that felt right in that moment, and after a long silence, Nicholas’s voice broke through again, quieter now, laced with the familiar self-doubt Euijoo knew so well.
“It’s… stupid, isn’t it?” Nicholas said with a faint laugh, pulling away just enough to meet Euijoo’s eyes. “I’m this worked up over a small fight. Over a stupid dance. It’s not even that big of a deal.”
Euijoo’s brows furrowed, a soft frown on his lips as he reached out to gently stroke the side of Nicholas’s face. “It’s not stupid,” he replied firmly. “It’s just… a moment, Nicho. You’re human. You’re allowed to feel frustrated.”
Nicholas let out a shaky sigh, rubbing his face with the back of his hand. His expression was a mix of self-loathing and fatigue, his eyes searching Euijoo’s like he needed permission to feel better.
“I don’t know,” he muttered. “It’s just… everything. The schedules, the practice, the constant rush, and then this. I can’t keep up sometimes, and it just builds up, you know? I get mad at myself for getting so overwhelmed over something so small. Like a fight with you.”
Euijoo’s heart softened at the admission, the vulnerability in Nicholas’s words laying bare the weight of everything he’d been carrying on his own.
“Hey,” Euijoo said gently, lifting Nicholas’s chin with his fingers, forcing him to meet his gaze. “You’re not alone in this, okay? You don’t have to do it all by yourself. I’m here, always. And even when things feel too big, we’ll face them together. That’s what we do.”
Nicholas’s lips parted slightly, his breath hitching as he let the words sink in. He shook his head, as if trying to push away the stubborn knot of frustration he’d been carrying.
“I don’t want to make things harder for you, Juju,” Nicholas admitted softly. “I never want to drag you down with me.”
Euijoo’s heart clenched at the quiet guilt in his voice, but he didn’t let it linger. “You don’t. And you never could, Nicho. You’re my partner, my best friend… we’re in this together. Okay?”
Nicholas’s eyes softened as Euijoo’s words sunk in, his gaze filled with gratitude and something else, something deeper that Euijoo didn’t quite have a name for.
“Okay,” Nicholas whispered, his voice steadier now. “I just… I guess I needed to hear that.”
Euijoo smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “Good. Because you deserve to hear it, every day. You’re allowed to have bad days, you know? And I’ll be here, no matter what.”
For a long moment, Nicholas stayed in his arms, his breathing slowly returning to a calmer rhythm as Euijoo held him close, rubbing soothing circles along his back. The silence between them wasn’t awkward, it was comforting, like a soft reassurance that everything would be okay.
Then, Nicholas’s lips quirked up into a small, tired smile. “I guess I’m not the only one who can be a little dramatic, huh?”
Euijoo chuckled, his chest relaxing as he playfully nudged Nicholas’s shoulder. “Maybe just a little,” he teased. “But I’ll let it slide, this time.”
Nicholas rolled his eyes, but the playfulness didn’t quite mask the exhaustion still evident in his gaze. “Yeah, I’m sure you’ll let it slide. Just don’t expect me to apologize for that tantrum I threw earlier.”
Euijoo grinned. “You don’t have to apologize, Nicho. I just want you to feel better.”
Nicholas’s expression softened again, his smile growing a little brighter as he leaned in to rest his forehead against Euijoo’s once more. “I do, now. Thanks for not letting me get too lost in my own head.”
Euijoo pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, his heart warm as he wrapped his arms around him once more. “Always, Nicho. Always.”