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Donghyuck’s already humming when Jaemin pads into the kitchen, hair mussed from sleep and hoodie sleeves pushed halfway up his arms.
The scent of fresh toast fills the air. So does the sound of Hyuck running scales under his breath, weaving through the notes like it’s second nature — because it is. Of course it is.
“You’re up early,” Jaemin yawns, rubbing one eye as he leans on the counter.
Hyuck, radiant and barefoot in a sweatshirt five sizes too big, glances over. “Big day, babe,” he says brightly. “Can’t slack on the vocal cords. They’re like... racehorses. Or orchids. Or, like, high-maintenance sugar babies.”
Jaemin grins, slow and soft. “So... you’re comparing your throat to a sugar baby.”
“I’m just saying-!” Hyuck tosses a slice of toast dramatically onto a plate. “-that if you don’t treat her right, she will betray you in front of a full audience.”
He’s joking. Mostly.
Jaemin watches him. Tracks the way his fingers twitch against the edges of the plate. The slight tightness in his shoulders, the way his gaze flickers toward the window every few seconds like he’s waiting for something to go wrong.
It’s subtle. But Jaemin’s a med student. He’s trained to notice the microdetails — the pale ring around Hyuck’s lips, the untouched coffee cup beside him, the fact that he’s been warming up for almost twenty minutes now.
“You didn’t eat,” Jaemin murmurs.
“I’m eating toast,” Hyuck says, eyes too quick. “And I had a banana.”
“You hate bananas.”
“Yeah, well, potassium.”
It’s almost funny. This is Donghyuck — the boy who could sing a Mariah high note mid-nap, who once jumped on a table during open mic night just because someone said he wouldn’t. He’s never been afraid of the stage. Not like this.
But Jaemin knows nerves. He knows what they look like when they’re tucked behind a dazzling smile and too many jokes.
“You want me to walk you there?” he asks casually.
Hyuck shakes his head immediately. “Nah. You’ve got lab in the afternoon, right? And I need to be there early for warm-ups. It’s all good. I’ll see you in the crowd, handsome.”
Jaemin hesitates.
Then smiles, soft. “Alright. But you text me the second you get there.”
Hyuck flashes him a peace sign and presses a kiss to his cheek, already reaching for his tote bag.
~🌻~
It’s only later — with Hyuck ten minutes from stepping on stage — that everything starts to crack.
The room backstage is quiet except for the echo of a piano behind the curtain. Other students mill around, low-voiced and focused. A girl two chairs down gives him a kind smile. Hyuck tries to return it, but his vision’s starting to swim.
His hands are cold. His stomach churns.
He can’t breathe.
He bolts for the bathroom.
The fluorescent lights flicker above him as he leans over the sink. Then the nausea hits hard, rising up his throat like it’s clawing its way out.
He throws up. Gagging, shaking, hot tears springing to his eyes as the room spins around him.
“Shit- shit,” he whispers, gripping the edge of the basin like a lifeline. “No, no, not now-”
How was he supposed to attend the recital like this?
~🌻~
Jaemin is halfway through his notes in the med library, when his phone buzzes.
jungwoo hyung 🫡
hey jaem, sorry if this is weird
i just saw hyuck run into the backstage bathroom like he was gonna puke
and he looked… pale. not like him.
can u check on him? i’ll tell the prof he might need to delay. no pressure. just worried.
Jaemin doesn’t even respond.
He’s moving before he realizes it — shoving his laptop into his bag with one hand and slinging it over his shoulder in the same motion. His pulse spikes, sharp and anxious. Something is wrong.
Hyuck’s been nervous all morning. But he’s good at pretending. Too good, sometimes.
Jaemin breaks into a full sprint down campus paths, ignoring the way a cyclist yells at him when he cuts across a lane without looking. His breath is tight by the time he reaches the music building.
The backstage hall smells like wood polish and dust and someone’s cologne. He barely greets the girl at the front, mumbling a quick “bathroom?” before she points down the corridor.
And then- there it is.
That awful, watery sound of someone retching.
“Hyuck?” Jaemin’s voice cuts through the hallway, a little louder than he means it to.
No response — just another gag and a choked-off cough.
Jaemin doesn’t wait.
He pushes the door open.
Donghyuck is on the tiled floor, curled sideways near the sink, one hand gripping the base like he needs it to stay upright. His cheeks are flushed, lips pale. There’s a faint sheen of sweat at his temples.
Jaemin’s heart cracks wide open.
“Hyuck- baby, hey-” he’s kneeling beside him in an instant, careful hands brushing back Hyuck’s hair.
Hyuck flinches a little, his breath shallow and panicked. “I-I’m fine-” he rasps, voice barely above a whisper. “Jaem, you don’t- this is so stupid, I don’t know why-”
“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Jaemin says, voice firm but so, so gentle. “You’re shaking, Hyuck. You’re pale. Your body’s trying to tell you it needs a break.”
“I was fine this morning,” Hyuck mumbles, eyes glassy. “I was fine, I swear, but then it hit me, and I couldn’t- couldn’t breathe, and then I just-”
He gestures helplessly toward the sink, then lets his arm drop.
Jaemin doesn’t press for more. He just crouches lower and pulls Hyuck into his arms carefully, letting the other boy lean his weight against him.
“You don’t have to be perfect all the time,” he whispers into Hyuck’s hair. “You’re allowed to have moments. You’re allowed to be scared.”
Hyuck hides his face against Jaemin’s shoulder.
“I hate this,” he breathes. “I hate feeling like this. I practiced so hard.”
Jaemin tightens his grip a little. “And you’ll still get to show them all of it. Just not today. Today, we go home. Okay?”
There’s a silence.
Then a small nod.
“Jungwoo hyung already told the director,” Jaemin murmurs, pressing a kiss to Hyuck’s temple. “You don’t have to do anything. I’ve got you.”
Hyuck clutches at the front of Jaemin’s hoodie like it’s the only solid thing in the room.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was scared.”
Jaemin’s throat tightens. “You don’t have to apologize for that either. I’ll always come find you. Even if you don’t say it out loud.”
~🌻~
It takes a few more minutes for Hyuck to stop trembling.
Jaemin just holds him the whole time, fingers rubbing gentle circles into his spine, keeping his voice low and steady — like it’s just the two of them, outside of time.
When Hyuck finally nods again, a little more certain this time, Jaemin helps him to his feet.
They don’t go out the front.
Jungwoo — the angel he is — slips them out through the side hallway and hands Hyuck’s tote bag to Jaemin with a reassuring smile and a wink. “I’ll say you had food poisoning,” he murmurs. “No one will ask twice.”
Hyuck barely manages a thankful glance. He looks drained, like he’s been rung out and left in the sun.
The car ride home is quiet.
Hyuck leans his forehead against the passenger window, face still pale, hands resting in his lap. Jaemin glances over at red lights, just to make sure he’s still breathing steady.
When they get to their apartment, Jaemin helps him out of his shoes, guides him inside by the small of his back like he’s something fragile.
“Go change,” he says softly. “I’ll make you tea.”
Hyuck moves slowly, like he’s underwater. Jaemin hears the shuffle of his closet door, the faint sound of clothes hitting the floor. Then the softest voice:
“Nana...?”
Jaemin pokes his head in from the kitchen. “Yeah?”
“Can I wear your hoodie?”
His heart melts.
“Of course you can, babe.”
A few minutes later, Hyuck reappears, in Jaemin’s faded green med school hoodie and a pair of fuzzy socks. He looks a little more like himself — but his eyes are still heavy, shoulders tight.
Jaemin takes his hand and tugs him gently to the couch.
He wraps them both in a blanket, pulls Hyuck into his lap, and hands him a warm mug. Chamomile. A drop of honey.
Hyuck sips, quietly.
“I feel stupid,” he murmurs after a while. “Like... I know everyone gets stage fright. But it’s not supposed to cripple me. Not when I’ve done this a million times.”
Jaemin hums, resting his chin on Hyuck’s shoulder. “I don’t think that makes you stupid. I think it makes you human.”
Hyuck breathes in slow. Lets it out shakier.
“I just didn’t want to let anyone down.”
“You didn’t,” Jaemin says immediately. “And if you had gone on stage like that, pushing through for other people’s expectations? That would’ve been letting yourself down.”
Hyuck sets his tea down and curls tighter into Jaemin’s arms.
“You always say the right thing.”
Jaemin chuckles, fingers trailing through Hyuck’s hair. “Nah. I just love you a lot. So I say what I mean.”
It’s quiet for a while after that.
Then: “Do you think people will think less of me for missing it?”
“Maybe the ones who don’t matter,” Jaemin says honestly. “But the ones who care? They’ll be proud you took care of yourself. I sure as hell am.”
Hyuck shifts until his face is pressed to Jaemin’s chest.
“...I really wanted you to hear me sing today.”
Jaemin’s arms tighten around him. “There’ll be other recitals. Or better — you can sing for me here, when you’re feeling up to it. No stage. Just me and you.”
Hyuck closes his eyes.
“...That sounds kinda perfect.”
They fall asleep like that: in a tangle of limbs and soft fabric, tea gone cold on the table, the pressure of the day finally melted into warmth.
~🌻~
It’s a week later.
The recital hall is still the same — polished wood stage, grand piano gleaming under the spotlight, rows of velvet seats filled with professors and peers and a few proud parents whispering before the start.
But this time, Donghyuck doesn’t bolt for the bathroom.
His fingers are still cold. His heart still beats fast. But Jaemin is beside him backstage, holding both his hands gently, pressing his thumbs against Hyuck’s pulse points like an anchor.
“Breathe with me,” Jaemin murmurs. “In... two, three... out... two, three…”
Hyuck’s eyes are locked on his face, wide and nervous.
“I don’t know if I can-”
“You can.” Jaemin smiles, soft and sure. “And if you forget everything and just walk off stage halfway through, I’ll still be the loudest one clapping.”
Hyuck lets out a shaky laugh.
Then — one more breath. And he nods.
He walks onto the stage alone.
The lights hit him full force. But he doesn’t flinch this time.
There’s a stillness before the first note.
And then he begins to sing.
It’s a song Jaemin’s heard a dozen times from behind their shared apartment door — muffled by steam in the shower, hummed absentmindedly over boiling noodles, belted at full power when Hyuck thinks he’s home alone.
But here, now, under golden stage lights and complete silence, it’s something else entirely.
Jaemin watches him — his boyfriend, his heart, his ridiculous, brilliant, loud-mouthed, tender-eyed miracle of a human — and it feels like falling in love all over again.
Hyuck’s voice soars. Not flawless. Not sterile. Alive.
By the time the final note fades, the hall is stunned into breathless stillness — and then erupting into applause.
Jaemin’s already standing.
He waits by the side exit, bouquet in hand — sunflowers, bright and beaming, tied with a red ribbon.
The moment the door swings open and Hyuck steps out, flushed and beaming, Jaemin steps forward.
“You were-” he starts, but then just laughs, breathless. “God. You were unreal.”
Hyuck’s eyes go wide as he sees the bouquet. “Are those-?”
“For the most radiant man I’ve ever seen under stage lights? Yes, they are.”
Hyuck laughs, delighted, eyes glassy. He takes the flowers like he’s cradling a small sun.
“You make it so hard to stay cool,” he says, teasing, but soft.
Jaemin leans in and presses a kiss to his cheek. “That’s the goal.”
Hyuck looks down at the petals. Then back up.
“Next time I forget I can do this... remind me of this moment?”
Jaemin grins. “I’ll remind you every day, if I have to.”
And later, as Hyuck curls into his lap again at home, still humming the melody under his breath, Jaemin holds him a little tighter — because now, when he looks at Hyuck, he doesn’t just see the voice.
He sees the strength. The fear. The vulnerability.
And the courage it took to sing anyway.
~🌻~
[11:08 PM – from: chocoball]
📸 [photo attached: slightly blurry picture of the sunflower bouquet sitting in their kitchen, one of Jaemin’s hoodies in the background]
me and my children. we’re thriving
[11:09 PM – from: nana]
wow ur cute 😻
how are flowers your entire personality now
[11:09 PM – from: chocoball]
i’ve never been given flowers before 🥰
and now i understand everything
i understand poetry
i understand spring
i understand why people fall in love with florists
[11:10 PM – from: nana]
oh so i’m competing with your sunflowers now? 🤨
[11:10 PM – from: chocoball]
there’s no competition bc the sunflowers have already stolen my heart
jk, you and the sunflowers are a package deal
they’re like… your soft, leafy love language
they’re jaemin-coded
[11:11 PM – from: nana]
stop ✋
you’re going to make me go out and buy five more bouquets
just to watch your stupid eyes go all soft again
[11:11 PM – from: chocoball]
oh no… not my sTuPiD soFt eYes
whatever will you do if i keep looking at you like i’m in love 😌
[11:12 PM – from: nana]
probably melt 🫠
which is dangerous. you know i’m made entirely of boyfriend
[11:12 PM – from: chocoball]
good
melt for me
i’ll water you and put you next to the sunflowers
[11:13 PM – from: nana]
somehow, that’s the cheesiest shit you’ve ever said
and i love you so much it physically kinda hurts 💋
[11:13 PM – from: chocoball]
😘 love you too, boyfriend
thanks for always catching me when i fall <3