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Yushi wasn’t one to cry very often. It was only in those moments where a sudden flash of emotion would surge over him, like something that had been suppressed for too long, a wave threatening to drown him internally before he could even release all the water from his eyes. It was only then that he would cry - and yet, still, he’d somehow earned the doting title of ‘crybaby’ from his teammates far too many times for the way that, when they did come, those stubborn tears refused to dry up until the rest of his body was too; curled up and sapped empty. Yushi still thought to himself, almost sourly, that it was Ryo who cried more, maybe even Riku or Daeyoung - but certainly not him.
It wasn’t that his group didn’t care, and nor did they find his emotions unimportant, however amused they may be by those adorably swollen eyes and that sniffling nose which would flush a sorrowful red. When the cameras were on, they’d poke fun, teasing without the sharp edge of anything truly mean-spirited. But then Daeyoung or Ryo would lean in for a hug, or Riku would pout out a sweetly melodic “Yuu-chan”. Sakuya would just stay close by, and seeing that boy’s face, with those babyish lips and that impish yet contrastingly serious expression, would always make laughter bubble in his throat, behind the hard rock that made it difficult to swallow.
And Sion was somehow all of them at once.
Sion overwhelmed Yushi. He was scarily observant, but in his truest self was never direct, unless either his leadership or his eldest-member duties called for it. Yushi felt like those sparkling eyes could see through to his soul, and it was a strange, penetrating feeling. For his entire life, Yushi had been labelled as something unreadable - something impossible to understand, too frustrating to crack open. And yet, somehow, the older boy casually saw through everything; things that were hidden behind an obstinate face that gave very little away. Sion knew frighteningly well how to look into people’s eyes, the windows which betrayed those layers of flimsy defences that all human beings would build up around their souls. And, sometimes, Yushi didn’t know how to look away and save himself.
Today was strange. Not because anything had happened, but because today was one of those days where you would wake up with a flood already building up in your body, something you would choke back to get on with your day, praying that your organs would float above it all - and that the salt wouldn’t drain you out completely before you got a moment to be alone.
The practice room was swathed in a cloud of sweat, permeating the cold AC air which spilled needlessly into a room where only two people remained. Yushi’s burning muscles thanked them regardless as he powered through their newest choreography with the fervency of a dancer desperate for perfection. Maybe too much desperation, almost all self-imposed. He had to get this down without a flaw before he clocked out for the day - or night. It was past 1AM and he thought about his bed and danced harder.
Sion sat with his back against the mirror and watched, observing as he always did, though his gaze still somehow felt so relaxed, in a way that caused Yushi no real discomfort or shyness despite its weight. Maybe he had just become accustomed to that stare - benumbed to it. He often searched for it, even, making sure that his leader was watching him, and only him. What he had never acclimated to, however, was the way that Sion’s voice could be so, so soft when it said Yushi’s name.
“Yushi,” Sion summoned gently, in a low voice, as soft as the pillow that Yushi wanted to return to.
“Hm?” mumbled the boy who danced without stopping, the stomping of his soles against the smooth wooden floors suddenly sounding awfully loud.
“Yushi,” Sion called again, resolutely.
The bottoms of Yushi’s shoes skidded slightly across the floor as he finally halted, squeaking like something injured and aching had been stepped on. He could feel that ache through his chest, and it spread like a fire, and suddenly his muscles were not the only part of him that were burning. Everything was alight. His tears were only falling to put out the blaze, but they were not enough, not when the arms of the ocean met him where he stood, wrapped around him, pulled him in.
Sion is a good leader. Yushi always thought this to himself. He’s reliable; mischievous enough to play with the younger members, and yet mature enough to be the adult of the group when it was needed. It was true, Wish was lost without him. Yushi often thought back to the time when Sion had been away from the rest of the group, in Mokpo, and how nobody had shaped up to the role of a temporary leader; not even stable, trustworthy Daeyoung. And, farther back, to when they were still shining yet shy trainees, when their first ever interaction was for Yushi to sheepishly ask of a favour from Sion - little Yushi and his translating app and his craving for cheeseballs alone against the great big world.
But now Sion was a necessity in his life, and had been since that moment, and he had never been alone since then. It was abundantly clear in the way that he was always, always looking for Sion. It was clear now in the way that he collapsed deeper into Sion’s arms, as quiet sobs shook trembles through his tired body. He tasted the salt of his own tears upon his own lips, against the soft, and now damp, skin of Sion’s neck. It was tangy on his tongue and he hated it. He pressed closer, as close as he could, until the musk of his teammate’s sweat and cologne was the only thing that pooled strongly in the back of his mouth - he hated it, too, but their proximity was tranquillising, and also, suitably, was addicting.
“Yushi, you’ve been acting off all day,” Sion mused seriously, before adding with the tiniest, gentlest glint of humour, “as your leader, I need to know what’s bothering you,”
Yushi’s eyes were screwed shut, still nuzzled into the older’s neck, yet somehow he could see that innocently smug grin Sion would always wear; which he was certain was plastered upon the boy’s infuriatingly beautiful face right now, too. Yushi giggled inwardly, out of irritation, or love; or something he could not accurately name. But, though his tears were slowly giving way by now to a dull sting in his eyes, he was still crying - so he hummed out a frail response, hardly a response, just a singular note. Sion’s slender fingers worked themselves into his hair and caressed comfortingly at his scalp.
“Stop stressing yourself out,” Sion reprimanded delicately, “I know you’re hungry. And tired. You haven’t been eating well, come eat and sleep with hyung,”
Yushi was even more annoyed, because Sion was right.
“You’re annoying,” Yushi growled flatly, and though his voice was muffled, a lovely kittenish lilt still betrayed those stern words.
Sion just laughed. He planted a kiss in Yushi’s hair, and pulled away slowly as though he were untangling himself from its silky, dark locks.
“Chicken or ramyeon?” he asked, searching Yushi’s eyes once again as his hands splayed out across the younger’s broad shoulders.
Yushi sniffled, then bloomed a feeble kiss upon his leader’s lips, because he couldn’t be annoyed anymore, not while looking into those handsome puppy eyes. Sion tasted of the ocean, or maybe it was still just the saline of his own tears; but Yushi found that he didn’t hate the flavour so much anymore.
“Ramyeon,” he answered.