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It was cold out, nearing the winter season fully but most of the foliage still bore its leaves and the sun still stayed out far too long for it to truly be considered winter yet. But the leaves not falling didn't stop the frigid wind from blowing into Jisungs face, pressing icy kisses to his cheeks until they grew red and stung from the sudden loss of body heat.
He shivered, tucking his hands into his pockets and ducking his head till his nose was pressed up against the top of his jackets collar and his wool beanie was taking the brunt of the cold breeze.
He'd insisted on the cars going ahead of him earlier after their dance practice, telling the rest of the members he wanted to run through a few steps he'd been consistently making mistakes on the last few days. A few had tried arguing, either insisting he come with them and that they could focus on it during their next practice, and the others saying they could stay and help him out a bit. He'd waved them all off, insisting he could make his way home just fine in an hour or so.
And, technically, he was doing just that. However, it's been more like four hours, and the sun had gone down a long while ago, and the streets had all but cleared out on this more residential side of Seoul.
Theoretically, he could've called one of the managers and requested a car, but it was so late in the evening he didn't want to be a bother to whatever poor staff member would be tasked with the duty, so he'd shoved that thought away quickly. So, he'd steeled himself to make the twenty minute trek home on foot, bundling up as well as he could in the warm jacket he'd brought, plus a hat and extra pair of socks he'd swiped from Chans studio. Now, he just had to hope he wouldn't come down with anything from his little stroll.
He'd made it home relatively quickly, the walk being as uneventful as he could've hoped for—a fan had been walking on the other side of the street and waved at him, but they hadn't come over thankfully. He slipped his shoes off, setting them to the side against the wall, next to a dozen or so other pairs before he made his way further into the house, letting his feet drag on the floor, sliding across the polished wood.
The voices he was following slowly got louder before he turned a corner and saw Felix, Jeongin, and Changbin sprawled out around the living room, the two younger curled atop each other as they stared at the movie playing on the screen, chattering away with Changbin who was flat on his back on the floor.
"Jisungieeee."
Jisung turned around when he heard the whiny voice behind him, smiling slightly when Hyunjin came into view. "Hi, Jinnie," he said, opening his arms for the boy to press up against him. A lot of the boys were incredibly touchy, on and off camera. There's no doubt that a lot of their little interacts are more for fan service than anything, however there's still quite a bit of truth within their actions with each other as well.
"You were supposed to be home three hours ago," Minho, who had just walked in after Hyunjin, raised an eyebrow at him from over the other boys shoulder.
Jisung gave a sheepish smile, letting the black-haired boy slip out of his arms and make his way into the living room, flopping down on top of Changbin, who gave a loud "oof!"
"Sorry, Hyung, I got... sidetracked." He ducked his head, ignoring the pointed look the older threw his way before scurrying past him and down the hallway, darting into his room to pick up a change of clothes from the pile on his bed he'd yet to put away before slipping back out and into the bathroom a few steps further down the hall. The walk home in the chill had dried most of the sweat he'd accumulated from practice, leaving his skin tacky and a bit sticky with the leftover residue, so he was long over due for a warm shower. Plus, his fingers were still a bit tingly from the wind.
When he was finished, he toweled off quickly and put on a pair of soft sweatpants and a sweatshirt that probably belonged to Changbin or Chan, the sleeves rolling down over his hands and the rest of the fabric hanging off him instead of hugging his frame slightly like his usually did.
Finally, he pulled a pair of soft, fluffy yellow socks with little embroidered canary birds on each ankle at the top. He didn't often wear fluffy socks, on account of disliking how they felt when he walked around in them, but they were one of his favorite items of clothing when he was little and Jisung was rather determined to wind down into that headspace tonight, even if it was just for him to curl up in his bed and fall asleep.
He got up and made his way back into the living room, wedging himself between Minho and Felix on the couch, leaning back a bit obnoxiously into the olders lap and tucking his feet beneath Felix's thigh. Jeongin had moved in the time it took Jisung to make his way in there finally, making room for Hyunjin who was now perched half on the blondes lap, the rest of his body leaning up against the armrest, the maknae now on the floor with his back against the couch. Changbin had stayed in the floor, though he was now on his side, head in Jeongins lap as he played with his hair absently, both eyeing the movie on the screen.
Minho hummed, opening his arms and letting Jisung fall back into him a bit more before wrapping them securely around his chest and shoulders. "Feel better?"
Jisung nodded, pressing his cheek up against Minho's chest and looking up at him through his lashes. Was it an unnecessary tactic? Yes. Was it still amusing to see the way the older man's eyes widen slightly and lit up just that much more? Also yes.
Minho tightened his grip around Jisung, letting his arms lower slightly till they were more around his belly than his chest. "How old are you, baby?"
Jisung laughed slightly, though it wasn't the usual higher pitched giggle he usually had when he was little. "Not little yet, hyung," he hummed, sticking his tongue out at him.
Minho groaned playfully, letting his head fall back against the couch. "Where's my little bug at? Are you trying to kill me with your cute little face?" He whined, shifting his arms again, squishing Jisung closer, his cheek pressed against the crown of Jisung's damp hair. "come in here all cozy, looking so cute I could just take a bite out of you, and then tell me you're not little? You're cruel."
Jisung let out a breathy laugh and nudged his head against Minho's chest. "You're dramatic, hyung. I just wanted to sit down for a while. The walk home was freezing."
Felix twisted slightly, peering down at him with a grin, his warm voice soft as he asked, "Didn't even call? Sweetie, you're lucky you didn't catch cold already." He shifted his weight just enough to tuck the blanket draped over the couch around Jisung's legs.
"Mm, I had socks," Jisung defended half-heartedly, wiggling his feet under Felix's thigh until the younger snorted.
"Your socks aren't heaters, bug," Felix teased, tugging gently on the cuff of Jisung's oversized sleeve.
"Could be," Jisung muttered, eyes fluttering half-shut from the warmth cocooning him now. He knew what they were doing, the over abundance of pet names and soft voices and the attention all on him was a dead giveaway. Usually, when Jisung wanted to be little, but couldn't manage to slip on his own, the others would talk him down into it. He didn't even have to ask usually, just walk in, pick a lap, and bat his eyes at whoever was closest like a girl at a bar. The tactic usually worked pretty well.
From the floor, Changbin groaned and rolled onto his back again. "Yah, if he's cold, let the baby have the blanket. Don't crush him with your thighs, Lix."
Jeongin chuckled, reaching over from his spot to flick Changbin's forehead lightly. "He's fine, hyung. Look at him. He's practically purring."
"Am not," Jisung mumbled, though his voice was soft and his body betrayed him by curling instinctively deeper into Minho's hold.
Hyunjin leaned over the back of the couch suddenly, his chin propped on Minho's shoulder as he gazed down at Jisung. His hair tickled the side of Jisung's face. "Angel face," he cooed, his lips tugging into a mischievous smile, "you should've just called me. I would've walked you home. My baby shouldn't be wandering the streets at night all alone."
"I'm not your baby," Jisung tried, though it came out as more of a whine than an argument. His head was starting to get fuzzy, bleeding over his brain in a soothing manner, and he was almost positive the others were aware of this.
"Mine, mine, mine," Hyunjin sang under his breath, earning a chorus of laughter from the room and a muffled groan from Jisung, who tried to hide his face against Minho's chest again.
Minho chuckled and kissed the top of his head before murmuring, "Sweetheart, you really should be more careful. You worry us."
Jisung peeked up at him, lips tugging into a small smile. "Sorry, hyung. I'll be better next time."
"Good," Minho said firmly, squeezing him once more before softening again. "Now just stay here, doll face. No more sneaking off for the night."
And Jisung, warm and content and just tired enough, hummed his agreement, letting himself melt into the safety of the moment.
The next morning was slow and gentle, as mornings in the dorm sometimes were on their rare days off. The living room was bright with early sun, golden light spilling across the carpet and warming the piles of pillows and blankets that had been dragged out the night before. It smelled faintly of coffee from the kitchen, but otherwise everything was soft and quiet—the kind of quiet that begged for comfort rather than routine.
Jisung padded out of his room in socks that were mismatched and slipping at the heel, only one his yellow fuzzy canary socks from the night before, his sweatshirt sleeves still half swallowing his hands. His hair stuck up messily, and there was something in the haziness of his gaze that told Minho right away where his head was at. Not quite here, not quite grown. Jisung didn't say it aloud, but Minho smiled at him anyway, ruffling his hair as he passed.
Felix was already curled up on the carpet with a pile of blocks, the bright plastic scattered in uneven towers and half-built bridges. He had a blanket around his shoulders, and he was humming quietly to himself, the picture of soft, sleepy comfort. He’s woken up fuzzy today, not yet fully slipped until he’d made his way out into the chilly living room, blanket clutched tight around his shoulders and feet dragging. When he’d spotted the brightly coloured blocks on the ground, left over from the night before, he’d plummeted quickly.
The moment Jisung spotted him, his pace quickened, energy sparking to life. "Lixie!" he chirped, dropping to the floor beside him with very little grace, immediately reaching for the blocks.
Felix startled at the sudden noise, blinking up at him with big round eyes. "Hi, Sungie," he said, voice barely above a murmur. His smile was small but sweet, and he shifted so Jisung could wedge himself in beside him.
Jisung dove in with boundless energy, scooping up blocks and clacking them together as he babbled excitedly about what they could build. His little age almost always pulled him younger than Felix—loud, eager, and desperate for attention—while Felix, sweet and careful, liked to sit and hum and let the world move around him.
The others filtered in and out of the living room as the morning wore on. Jeongin sat for a while, letting Felix place blocks in his lap. Hyunjin made a crown of soft toy rings and set it on Felix's head, declaring him "Prince Lixie," which earned a round of coos and soft laughter from everyone present.
Jisung laughed too, but his hands squeezed a block too tightly, and the tower he was working on wobbled dangerously. He scrambled to fix it, talking faster, louder, trying to keep up with the affection spilling Felix's way. He wanted someone to notice him too.
"Look, look, mine's taller!" Jisung announced, throwing his arms wide for emphasis. But in his excitement, his elbow bumped the side of Felix's half-built castle. The carefully stacked blocks clattered apart in an instant, scattering across the carpet.
Felix's face fell, lower lip wobbling as his little hands reached out helplessly at the broken pile. "My house..." he whispered, and the devastation in his tiny voice was sharp enough to cut the room in half.
Jisung froze. His stomach flipped. "I—I didn't mean—Lixie, I was jus'—"
But before he could explain, someone was already reacting. "Jisung!" Changbin's voice rang out, sharp in the hush. He leaned forward from his spot on the couch, frowning. "You can't do that. Look, you made him cry. Don't be so rough."
Jisung's cheeks burned. His chest squeezed tight, panic clawing its way up his throat. "I didn't—I didn't mean—" he tried again, but his voice was small and broken now, drowned beneath the way Felix's upset sniffles tugged everyone's attention. Felix didn’t usually cry, he always claimed he was too old to, but it was obvious he’d slipped lower in the few seconds of heightened emotions, likely adding to the overwhelmed tears building in his eyes.
"Bug, that was a bad choice," Minho added, gentler but still firm, guiding Felix into his lap to soothe him. He rubbed Felix's back, murmuring praise about how well he'd built it and how they could fix it together. "Sung, you need to calm down, you’ve been a very busy bee today. Go sit by the wall for a little bit, okay? Time out."
The words landed like a stone dropped in his stomach. Bad. He was bad. They didn’t have to say it outright for him to get what they meant.
His hands trembled as he scrambled to his feet, ducking his head. He scurried to the far wall, following it out until he was in the adjacent room where a little chair sat mostly unused, and climbed up onto it without another word.
No one followed.
At first, he told himself it would just be a minute. That was the rule. A minute to calm down, then they'd call him back, hug him close, tell him it was okay. He counted slowly on his fingers, knees pulled up under the too-long sweatshirt.
But one minute stretched into two, then into five. Their voices drifted over from the couch—soft laughter, murmurs of comfort directed at Felix, little nicknames sprinkled in like sugar, probably trying to abate the tears.
"Sweetheart, you did such a good job building it."
"My angel, you're so clever."
"Look at that smile—doll face, you're perfect."
All Jisung could think about was that none one of it was for him.
Jisung bit his lip until it hurt. His fingers twisted in his sleeves, pulling and pulling until the fabric was tight around his fists. His chest ached, throat stinging with the effort of not crying. He wanted to tell them he hadn't meant to, that he wasn't bad, that he was good too. He wanted someone to look over, to notice him waiting.
But no one came.
The seconds bled into minutes, and by the time ten had passed, Jisung's composure had cracked wide open. Tears slipped hot and silent down his cheeks, his breath catching in uneven hiccups he tried to smother against his knees. The thought circled endlessly in his head, louder and louder with every beat of his heart.
Bad. I'm bad. Bad boy. Bad little. Not loved, not wanted, not good.
The voices on the couch blurred together, muffled by the sound of his own sobs. He curled smaller in the chair, trying to disappear, trying not to take up space at all. Because maybe if he wasn't there, if he wasn't so loud and clumsy and wrong, they would still love him.
He sat there, waiting, breaking apart piece by piece in the quiet corner no one remembered to look toward.
The movie had long since ended, the screen gone dark as Netflix hovered idly on its menu. Felix was curled up in Minho's lap now, thumb rubbing anxiously at the hem of his sleeve as he blinked sleepily at the lights. Jeongin had disappeared to the kitchen, Hyunjin was drawing lazy shapes on the blanket with a fingertip, and Changbin was scrolling halfheartedly through his phone.
Chan walked in, stretching the stiffness from his shoulders. He glanced at the couch with a small smile, taking in the sight of Felix wrapped snug and quiet in Minho's arms. But the smile faltered after a second. He blinked, scanning again.
"Where's Sungie?" he asked lightly, as though the answer should've been obvious. He was pretty sure he’d seen the boy this morning, sporting a sleepy smile, his favorite toy tucked in his arm, ticking Chan off that he was still little.
Heads lifted, eyes flicking toward the door, then around the room. Minho frowned faintly, still absently stroking Felix's hair. "He was—he was just here."
"Yeah," Hyunjin added, sitting up straighter. "He was playing with Lixie earlier..." His words trailed off, doubt creeping into his voice.
Chan's brow furrowed, his parental instinct kicking in as a knot formed in his chest. "When's the last time you actually saw him?"
The silence that followed was louder than anything.
Changbin sat up quickly, glancing toward the other room—and his stomach sank. "Hyung," he whispered, guilt heavy in his tone, "he's still over there."
Every head whipped around at once, most getting to their feet to shuffle over so they could see better through the open doorway.
And there he was. Jisung, their Sungie, still perched on the little chair by the wall where they'd told him to sit. His small frame was hunched in on itself, knees pulled tight to his chest, face hidden. His sleeves were clenched so tightly in his fists the fabric twisted around his arms. The sound of soft, broken hiccups carried faintly across the room, sharp as glass.
"Bug..." Minho's voice cracked, already halfway to his feet. Felix was slipped down onto the couch next to him, nonplussed at being displaced, more interested in his finger, his knuckle squeezed between his teeth in a way that would normally get him scolded for.
But Chan was faster. He crossed the space in a handful of strides, his heart aching with every step. The moment he reached him, he crouched down low, trying to make himself smaller, less frightening. "Baby," he breathed, gentle as the morning light, "oh, sweetheart, why didn't you call for us?"
Jisung flinched at the sound of his voice, then peeked up. His cheeks were blotchy red, his eyes swollen and streaming, lips trembling as he whispered the only words he'd managed to hold onto.
"'M bad," he choked out, shoulders shaking. "'M a bad boy, Channie. I break things. I hurt Lixie. I'm bad."
The words broke something in Chan's chest clean in two.
"No, no, no," he murmured, gathering Jisung up without hesitation. He lifted him off the chair and into his lap, tucking him close against his chest. "Sweetie, you're not bad. You're never bad. You're my Sungie, my good boy, my little bug. Always good."
Jisung clung to him instantly, fists knotted in his shirt as if he was terrified Chan might set him back down. The sobs spilled out harder now that he was being held, shaking his whole body, but Chan only rocked him gently, kissing his hair between soft words.
"Angel, I'm so sorry," he whispered. "We should've come to you sooner. We didn't mean to forget, Sungie. That was our mistake, not yours. You're good, sweetheart. So, so good."
The others hovered close, guilt written on every face. Felix's eyes were wide and wet, now clutching tight to Seungmins arm as he noticed what was happening, Hyunjin biting his lip hard, Minho frozen with his hand still halfway outstretched.
"Hyung..." Minho's voice was raw, quiet. "I didn't think—"
Chan shook his head at him softly, rocking Jisung tighter. "Later. Right now he just needs us."
And so they gathered, surrounding Jisung where he was curled safe in Chan's lap. Minho sat down on one side, brushing tears from Jisung's flushed cheeks with his thumb. Felix scooted in on the other, pressing his blanket into Jisung's arms with a small, hesitant smile. Hyunjin stroked his hair, murmuring apologies and little endearments. Changbin leaned close, whispering promises that they loved him, that he was their sweetheart, their baby, their bug.
Wrapped in warmth and voices calling him good, Jisung's sobs slowly eased into hiccups, then sniffles, until at last he pressed his face into Chan's chest, exhausted but calmer.
"Not bad?" he whispered, barely audible.
Chan kissed the crown of his head, holding him tight enough to anchor him. "Never, Sungie. You're our angel. Always, always good."
And this time, Jisung let himself believe it, if only because they wouldn't let go until he did.