Work Text:
Jisung loved writing as much as he had recently come to find it painful.
Since childhood, he had been drawn to music, to expressing his deepest emotions through lyrics. It also served as a bridge, connecting him with the audience. There was no way to describe the feeling of seeing the crowd at a concert, the emotions their music brought to their faces. To this day, it still surprised him when the audience sang their songs back at them. It was one of the greatest joys he had experienced since taking music seriously.
Yet, this joy had also become his greatest burden. Expectations. That he had to live up to something others demanded of him. Every day, he had to climb invisible walls built by strangers. While it was never easy, at first it still seemed manageable. But then the weight began pressing down harder and harder until somewhere along the way, he lost his passion for music. It wasn’t fun anymore, it became a burden that grew heavier with each passing day.
Still, there he was in the studio, hunched over his desk, trying to write something usable. He felt awful that he’d had almost no part in the recent songs they released, the others did all the work. He couldn’t squeeze out a single meaningful thought or melody. He tried… he really did.
This was the third night in a row he’d spent alone in the studio. He hadn’t left except to run to the nearby store for survival supplies. Luckily, there was a small bathroom, so he didn’t have to feel too uncomfortable. If he got tired, he could sleep on the couch, though most of the time, sleep never came. He got by on a few hours of rest each day. He was exhausted, yet the second he layed down, his mind refused to rest.
Things weren’t any better at home, it was one of the main reasons he stayed in the studio. He couldn’t rest, the guilt of not doing anything for the team distressed him. He still wanted to write,he remembered how refreshing it used to feel, but right now, he just couldn’t.
Of course, he tried to be productive during these three days, but it wasn’t easy. He deleted countless drafts from his notes, none of them felt good enough, He leaned back in his chair with a tired sigh and buried his face in his hands. At this point, he would’ve been happy with a single idea. One line. Anything. But nothing came.
His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of his phone. He didn’t look right away, he didn’t want to talk to anyone. He waited, hoping it would stop. But it kept ringing, more annoyingly each second, until he finally looked at the screen. His tense expression softened immediately when he saw who it was.
Minho.
He picked up, put it on speaker, and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t have the strength to hold the phone. He felt exhausted, despite having done practically nothing.
“Are you still alive?” Minho asked in a soft voice. Jisung didn’t reply, just let out a deep sigh.
“I’ve been trying to reach you for days. You haven’t checked your messages either, have you?”
“Sorry… I didn’t hear it. I’ve been working,” Jisung mumbled.
“You’ve been gone for days. When are you coming home?” The worry in Minho’s voice was clear, though he rarely showed it openly.
Jisung stayed silent. He didn’t want to make up excuses, and he definitely didn’t want to lie. Minho would see right through him anyway.
“You didn’t even come to rehearsal. Chan had to fill in for you yesterday,” Minho continued more gently.
“I’m almost done,” Jisung tried to sound optimistic, though he hadn’t written even a single decent line in three days.
“That’s not what I asked,” came the strict reply.
Silence again. Jisung rubbed his face, debating whether to hang up. But he didn’t want to hurt the one person who mattered most to him, no matter how much he wanted to be left alone. Eventually, he spoke.
“Just need a little more time…”
Minho sighed on the other end.
“Okay…” he said, disappointed, but didn’t push further. That only made Jisung feel even guiltier.
“We’ll talk later… Bye, Jisungie.” Minho hung up.
It wasn’t a deep conversation, but it stirred something in Jisung. Maybe the concern in Minho’s voice, or his own shame, but he turned back to his desk with renewed determination. He could do this. Everything would be okay.
At least, that’s what he thought.
But still, nothing usable came to mind. His thoughts kept circling back to Minho. Maybe he should write about him? But he dismissed the idea,he couldn’t write something worthy of him.
They had been together for a while. Jisung fell in love with him at first sight. At first he tried stay just friends with him, but quickly realized he couldn’t. Eventually, it turned out he shouldn’t try so hard, because Minho felt the same way.
Years had passed since then, and Jisung still loved him just as much. Of course, not every moment was filled with excitement, their relationship had settled into something more comfortable. Yet when he came home after a long, tiring day and found himself in Minho’s arms… it was indescribable.
Without realizing it, his mind wandered again. He tried to pull himself together and focus on work again.
But if not about Minho, then what? Another “unstoppable” anthem about how strong they were as a team of eight? That wouldn’t feel genuin, because right now, he felt very stoppable.
He didn’t want to write about Stay either. Even though he knew they loved him, part of the reason he was in this sinking boat was because of the pressure he felt from them. So he wouldn’t be able to write something heartfelt about his love for them… even if it was true. He loved them, and he was endlessly grateful. He knew they wouldn’t be where they were without them, and he tried to keep that in mind even during hard times like now. It was just that the pressure and expectations made it all bitter and painful.
Then, suddenly, an idea hit him.
What if he wrote about what he was feeling right now?
The burden, the doubts, the expectations. That was the one thing he understood perfectly at the moment. And maybe, that was the one thing he could write about with real honesty.
He turned to his keyboard, and the words started to flow. He couldn’t remember the last time he wrote with such ease. It felt like something finally broke loose, something that had been squeezing him from the inside for months. The lines appeared on the screen almost on their own, his thoughts flowing freely. Everything he had been bottling up day after day spilled out. It felt like he could finally breathe, for real, for the first time in a long time.
He didn’t know exactly when he started, but by the time he finished, it was already getting light outside. He leaned back, stretched, and let out a soft, relieved sigh.
He was finally done.
For the first time in ages, he had finished writing a song, and honestly, it wasn’t even bad. He’d never imagined he’d be thankful for what brought it out of him, but he was. Not all his problems were solved, but something had eased. He still had a long way to go to learn how to deal with everything, but it felt like he’d finally taken the first step.
Fatigue hit him full force now. He could barely keep his eyes open, but before resting, he grabbed his phone to message Changbin and the others. He wanted to share the song. Mostly to get their feedback, what still needed work, but also because he was proud. For the first time in a long while, he had contributed something, and it gave him purpose again.
And then, of course, he thought of Minho. They hadn’t talked in days, aside from that short call. He missed him. Truly. He wanted to call him, but when he reached for his phone, the screen was black. For a second, he stared in confusion, then remembered. He hadn’t charged it. It was already low during their call, but he got so lost in writing that he completely forgot.
Despite his exhaustion, he jumped up from his chair and grabbed his jacket. He knew Minho would be worried. That was the last thing he wanted. He’d promised to write, and he couldn’t keep that promise. He didn’t like breaking promises.
He was just about to walk out the door, but when he opened it, a very familiar, slightly confused face looked back at him.
Minho.
Jisung laughed quietly. The other blinked back in confusion.
“What’s so funny?” Minho asked with mild irritation, frowning.
“Nothing,” Jisung said, but continued when he saw the answer wasn’t enough.
“I was just about to message you, but my phone died. I was literally on my way home… but it looks like you beat me to it.” He said it all with a smile. Minho’s face softened.
“So, you finished what you were working on?”
There was still a trace of worry in Minho’s eyes that he tried to hide. Jisung’s heart ached.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “I’m sorry for disappearing,” he said softly.
They stood there in silence for a few moments, just looking at each other, until Minho stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Jisung’s neck.
“So, everything turned out alright in the end?” he asked softly, leaning in a little closer.
“Thanks to you,” Jisung replied, running his hand along Minho’s side before wrapping his arms around his waist, pulling him closer.
“I don’t know what I did, but I’m still claiming my reward. You’re four days behind, you know,” Minho added playfully, leaning in with a smirk, gently licking his lips.
“Alright, alright…” Jisung whispered, closing the small space between their lips.
The kiss was slow, yet full of feeling. Jisung realized just how much he had missed him. The moment Minho held him, all the tension he’d been carrying seemed to melt away, at least for a little while.
“Let’s go home,” Jisung whispered.
He knew he still had a long way to go before he could overcome everything weighing on him. But he was sure he could do it. He wasn’t alone. He had his friends, who always had his back, and he had Minho, who had always stood by his side.
Everything will be fine.