Chapter Text
The practice room hummed with low energy, a soft thrum of warm-up music filling the space. Sneakers squeaked across the polished floor as the members stretched, limbs reaching, twisting, rolling out stiffness from the long tour that had ended only yesterday. Sweat already clung to damp hairlines and shirts, a faint tang of exertion mixed with the lingering smell of protein drinks and the faint ghost of last night’s takeout.
Felix was perched on the edge of a bench, mock-scolding I.N. for his uneven stretches. “Careful, maknae, you’re going to pull something before we even start properly.”
I.N. grinned sheepishly. “I’m fine! Don’t worry about me.”
Minho leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching Hyunjin in particular. “You really should’ve taken a rest yesterday,” he said dryly. “Tour’s done, we’re all dead tired, and you’re already bouncing around like nothing happened.”
Hyunjin let out a short, tired laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… I can’t. We can’t stop. Comeback prep doesn’t wait, you know that.” His gaze flicked to the mirrors, watching their reflections move in practiced rhythm. “It’s only one day… one day won’t kill me.”
Seungmin, adjusting a water bottle on the floor, gave him a look of quiet concern. “Yeah, but one day adds up. Don’t forget, we’ve been running on fumes for weeks.”
Hyunjin shrugged, forcing a grin. “I’ll be fine. We all will. We just need to get through today.”
The room pulsed with faint music as they went through light choreography, arms cutting clean lines in the air. The mirrors reflected eight shadows in constant motion, eight bodies twisting and snapping into place. Sweat trickled down Hyunjin’s back, sticking his shirt to his skin, and he bit his lip as he adjusted his footing.
Felix broke the light tension with a joke, pointing at Han mid-stretch. “Careful, hyung. Don’t strain yourself trying to keep up with Hyunjin. You might actually break something.”
Han laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll take my chances. Somebody’s gotta keep you all in line.”
The group chuckled, the brief warmth and camaraderie doing little to mask the underlying fatigue. Even as they joked, the heat in the room was growing, mingling with the scent of sweat and exertion.
Bang Chan clapped his hands sharply. “Alright, team. That’s enough for warm-up. Let’s run it properly now.”
The music shifted, stronger and faster. The group had moved past stretching and warm-ups, now running through choreography, each step sharper, more precise. Hyunjin’s movements were tight but slightly off. His spin came a fraction too early, a hand too high, a foot brushing past the mark.
Minho’s voice cut through the rhythm, calm but guiding. “Hyunjin, slow it just a touch on the last turn. Keep it with the beat.”
Hyunjin blinked, adjusting his stance. “Got it,” he muttered, his voice barely above the music. He tried again, but the next combination landed unevenly.
Changbin called out, teasing lightly, “First slip of the day, Hyunjin? Don’t tell me you’re already showing your fatigue.”
Hyunjin’s lips twitched into a tight smile. “Nope. Just… warming up.”
Seungmin, noticing the slight tremor in his step, added quietly, “Take a breath if you need it. You’ve been running non-stop since the tour ended.”
Hyunjin shook his head, determined. “I’ll be fine. Let’s just keep going.”
For the next hour, the room thrummed with movement, sneakers squeaking and music pulsing. Sweat slicked skin, shirts clinging, and the smell of exertion hung heavy. Hyunjin’s errors became slightly more frequent, but still minor, just enough to be noticed by the more attentive eyes.
By the second hour, Hyunjin’s hands tightened into fists at his sides with each missed step. He was off by half a beat here, a turn too fast there. His chest rising and falling rapidly, spoke of fatigue edging toward frustration. Jisung caught himself staring at him more than once, the flicker of worry in his chest growing.
The corrections started gentle, polite reminders. “Hyunjin, hold that turn,” “Watch the rhythm on the next step,” “Keep your arm placement consistent.”
But as the hours passed, the energy in the room thickened. The music wasn’t just a beat now, it became a metronome, a pressure. Each step repeated, each combination practiced again and again, weighed heavier with exhaustion. Minor mistakes turned more noticeable, irritation flickered in quiet glances, and the careful warmth of morning banter had long dissipated.
Again, Hyunjin faltered half a beat too fast, his turn sharper than the rest. It wasn’t obvious to anyone outside the room, but inside, surrounded by perfectionists, it might as well have been a blaring siren.
“Stop.” Bang Chan’s voice cut the music like a blade.
The track screeched to a halt, leaving silence so raw and sudden that it made everyone’s breath sound too loud. Sweat dripped steadily, trailing from temples down flushed necks, and the fogged-up mirrors caught the jittering reflections of a group on edge.
Han bent forward, palms pressing into his knees as he caught his breath. His hair clung to his damp forehead, and his shirt stuck to his back. He told himself not to glance at Hyunjin, not to feed the fire that had been smoldering between them all evening. But his eyes flicked up anyway, betraying him.
Hyunjin stood stiffly, breathing too fast, jaw set. His hands balled into fists at his sides, and even the twitch of his brow radiated frustration. He looked like he was wound too tight, ready to snap.
Chan’s tone stayed calm but firm, “Hyunjin, you’re still rushing the beat.”
Hyunjin’s lips pressed into a thin line, his glare fixed at the door. “I know,” he muttered.
“Then fix it,” Chan replied, not unkindly, but firm.
The room seemed to tighten with the silence that followed. Minho crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, already bracing himself for what was about to happen. Seungmin’s brows furrowed, lips parting as if he wanted to step in but thought better of it. Felix’s gaze darted nervously between Han and Hyunjin, his expression tense.
Han should’ve swallowed his words. He knew better. But the irritation bubbling in his chest, paired with his exhaustion, pushed them out before he could stop himself.
“You’ve been saying you know for the past hour,” Han blurted, his voice sharper than he intended. “If you know, then maybe just… try harder.”
It was like a spark thrown into a room full of gasoline.
Hyunjin’s head snapped toward him, eyes blazing. “Excuse me?”
Han swallowed, but the words were already out, and his pride wouldn’t let him take them back. “You’re dragging all of us down when you don’t fix it.”
Yongbok flinched, “Ji-…” His voice was a warning, urgent but useless.
Hyunjin let out a laugh short and jagged, nothing like his usual bright sound. “Dragging you down? You’re seriously going to say that?” He took a step closer, “You mess up all the time. Everyone just ignores it because you act like the class clown and joke it off.”
Han’s chest squeezed painfully. He forced his voice steady even as his stomach dropped. “At least I don’t throw a tantrum every time someone points it out.”
That was the trigger.
Hyunjin froze. His smile vanished, replaced by a storm building in his eyes. He moved closer, until Han had to tilt his chin up to keep his gaze. His voice trembled with fury. “You… you think you’re helping but half the time, you don’t even see what’s going on. You step in when it’s not your place, lecture me like you know better, and then… nothing changes. Everything… everything gets heavier because of you.”
Jisung’s stomach lurched. Words stuck in his throat. The ache in his chest made him feel like he couldn’t breathe. His mind went blank. He wanted to argue, to defend himself, but Hyunjin’s intensity left no room for logic.
“No.” Hyunjin’s voice cracked louder. “You act like you care, Han…but maybe you don’t. Maybe you just…” His breath stuttered, and then the words dropped like venom. “make it harder for everyone.”
The music had stopped, leaving the room pulsing with the echo of Hyunjin’s words. Han’s chest heaved, his throat tight, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe. His eyes locked on the polished floor beneath him, and everything in the world seemed to shrink to the weight of that single statement. He had no words, no clever comeback, nothing but the raw ache in his chest and the sting of shame mixed with hurt.
Felix crouched beside him, voice soft, coaxing. “Ji… hey, it’s okay. Don’t… don’t let it get to you too much.”
Han shook his head, managing a small, shaky smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I… I just…”
Seungmin stepped closer, crouching slightly to meet Han’s gaze. “Han-ah, listen. You tried to help. You did. And I know you didn’t mean any harm.”
Minho leaned casually against the wall, but his tone was steady and warm. “Yeah. Hyunjin’s frustrated. You know him. He’ll calm down. But you’re not the problem here.”
Han wanted to nod, wanted to believe them, but Hyunjin’s words lingered, slicing into the part of him that wanted to do right by everyone. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white, as he tried to push the sting down.
Meanwhile, across the room, Hyunjin had sunk to the floor, elbows on his knees, head buried in his hands. His chest tightened as he replayed every interaction, every word, every misstep. He hadn’t meant to cut this deep, but exhaustion and frustration had overridden everything. He wanted to apologize, wanted to explain, but the words stuck in his throat, tangled with his guilt and his stubborn pride.
Bang Chan pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long sigh. “Let’s… take five. Everyone, step back, breathe. Han, Hyunjin… I know it’s tense, but…” His words trailed off as both of them avoided looking at each other, the tension vibrating in the silence.
The group scattered to the corners of the practice room. Felix hovered close to his twin, quietly rubbing his shoulders. “You’re not alone man.” he whispered, almost like a mantra.
Seungmin leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. “Don’t let him get in your head. He doesn’t… he doesn’t mean half of what he said.”
Minho perched on a bench, quietly chewing on a protein bar. “It hurts, I know. But Hyunjin’s tired. You’ve all been running on fumes. You’re all exhausted. That doesn’t make it fair to you, though.”
Han nodded slowly, the knot in his chest tightening further. “I know,” he muttered, almost to himself. “I just… I wanted to help.”
Felix reached for his hand, squeezing gently. “And you did. That counts.”
Across the room, Hyunjin shifted slightly, eyes flicking toward Jisung without actually meeting him. He didn’t know if he could fix this, if the words had irreversibly changed the space between them. He didn’t want to hurt him. He cared too much for that, but pride and frustration had betrayed him.
When Chan finally called the group back together, the remainder of practice was quiet, the movements muted. Every step, every stretch, felt weighted with tension. Neither Han nor Hyunjin spoke, their energy coiled and cautious.
_______
The walk back to the dorm felt like wading through molasses. City lights reflected in puddles, glinting off the wet asphalt, painting somber faces in neon water.
Jeongin tried to start a conversation, pointing out a brightly lit café that had just opened, but no one responded. His voice faded, swallowed by the silence.
Seungmin walked close to Han, glancing sideways every few steps. “Hey… you okay?” he asked softly.
Han nodded, but the tightness in his chest wouldn’t loosen. “Yeah… just tired,” he murmured, eyes fixed on the ground.
Minho fell in step behind them, hands shoved in his pockets. “We’ll sort this out tomorrow,” he said quietly. “Don’t overthink it now.”
Hyunjin trailed slightly behind, hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets, gaze fixed on the ground. Each step felt like carrying lead in his chest. He wanted to apologize, to explain, to pull Han into his arms and tell him he cared, anything but the hollow silence that stretched between them.
_______
Back at the dorm, the tension fractured into smaller, fragmented moments.
Han bolted to his room, I.N. followed.
Meanwhile, in the living room, Hyunjin sat on the couch, legs drawn up slightly, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve. His chest ached, not from practice, but from knowing he’d hurt someone he cared about more than he wanted to admit.
Changbin sat beside him, “You know you went too far, right?” He said, not unkindly.
Hyunjin didn’t lift his head. “I didn’t mean…” He stopped, teeth sinking into his lip. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Changbin said. “You still said it. And you know how Han is.”
Hyunjin groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “Why do we always fight? I don’t even want to fight with him. It just… happens.”
“Because you’re both stubborn idiots,” Minho said, strolling past with a cup of ramen in hand.
Hyunjin threw him a look, but Minho just shrugged.
The dorm fell quiet again, except for the sound of boiling water in the kitchen.
Chan, pacing in the kitchen, ran a hand through his hair. He had half a mind to call a meeting with management, but for now, he stayed quiet, letting the others settle.
_______
Han dropped his bag in their shared room, collapsing face-first onto the mattress. He pressed his hand to his chest, breathing shallow.
The maknae hovered at the door, voice hesitant. “Hyung… you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Jisung said quickly, forcing his voice steady. “Really.”
Jeongin’s expression looked almost guilty. “You don’t look fine.”
Han sat up, forcing a grin. “Just tired. I’ll sleep it off.”
I.N. hovered, not convinced, but eventually nodded and said before leaving, “Okay. But… don’t let him get in your head too much, yeah?”
Now alone in his room, Jisung relived every word, every glance, every misstep. “I just… wanted to help,” he whispered to the empty room. “Why did it have to turn into this?”.
He turned around, now staring up at the ceiling. The fight replayed in his mind on loop, each word louder than the last.
Everything gets heavier because of you.
You joke it off.
You just make it harder for everyone…
He squeezed his eyes shut, but the words still echoed, heavy and sharp, and yet a restless energy pulsed beneath it all. He couldn’t stop moving, couldn’t stop thinking, couldn’t stay still. Sleep might come, but it wouldn’t be restful that was for sure.
Across the hall, Hyunjin’s room was dim, a single shaft of streetlight slicing across the floor. He hugged his knees, curling slightly into himself, replaying the argument over and over. The words he’d said cut deeper than intended, and guilt churned like fire in his stomach. He wanted to call out, to say he was sorry, but even speaking the words felt impossible.
He pressed a hand to his chest, forcing slow breaths. “I didn’t mean it… I didn’t mean it like that,” he whispered, voice barely audible.
And in the silence of the dorm, both of them lay awake, wide-eyed, heart racing, trapped in their own thoughts. The unresolved weight of the fight hung heavily between them. Han shifted slightly, the ache in his chest refusing to let him lie still, and for the first time that evening, he realized that sitting still wasn’t going to be an option. Something inside him was already pushing to move, to act, to seek a distraction before the quiet swallowed him completely.
_______
Felix lingered in the living room, “I… I don’t get it.” He admitted, pacing lightly. “Why do they always end up like this?” His voice was low, hesitant, but it carried enough for the others to hear. “It’s like all these little things just… pile up until something snaps.”
Seungmin looked up from straightening a cushion, brow furrowed. “I know. I mean… Han tried to help. He really did. But Hyunjin… he just snapped. It’s like he couldn’t see past his own stress.” He paused, picking at the edge of the cushion. “And I get it, you know? We all push ourselves, but… I don’t know, tonight felt different.”
Chan, arms crossed, leaned against the counter, sighing. “That’s exactly it. They’re both stubborn as hell, and tonight it all boiled over. I’ve seen it coming for a while, but nothing I said worked. And now…” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “Now it makes me want to yell at them both, but it won’t fix a thing.”
Felix sank onto the couch, rubbing his face. “I hate seeing them like this. Han… he’s not weak, but he is so sensitive and those words… they hit him hard. I can see it... And Hyunjin, well I know he didn’t mean to say it like that. He cares, but he just doesn’t know how to show.”
Seungmin nodded, folding his hands in his lap. “Yeah. And the thing is… both of their egos are too strong to stop. I keep thinking, if only one of them would just say something… anything…”
Chan finally spoke more softly, almost to himself. “That’s the problem. They won’t. They’re both too proud.”
Felix exhaled, a shaky breath. “I just… Hyunjin might be the one lashing out, but Han… he’s hurting just as much, probably more, because he wants to help. He wants to do the right thing and it keeps backfiring.”
Chan rubbed his temples. “We’ll see. They’ll find a way to talk, one way or another. Or one of them will take the first step.”
Yungbok leaned back, voice barely above a whisper. “I wonder… do you think they even realize how much the other cares? Like… really feels?”
Seungmin tilted his head, considering. “Obviously not… I think part of why it hurts so much is that they want to do right, but can’t show it without tripping over the other’s reaction.”
Chan’s eyes softened, a trace of a smile in his expression. “I’ve seen it before, with other people… but with them, it’s intense. They don’t just care, they feel it. And that’s why it blows up so easily.”
At that moment, Minho walked into the room quietly, holding a cup of tea. He looked from Felix to Seungmin to Chan, catching the tail end of their conversation. “Talking about them again, huh?” he asked, setting the cup down.
Felix nodded quickly.
Minho sank into a chair across from them. “Well, we all shouldn’t blame Hyunjin-ah too harshly… He doesn’t show it but he’s very tired and stressed out. And I’m not saying that if he took the day off yesterday like the rest of us this fight wouldn’t have happened, but still. I’ve never seen him this tired.”
“I feel terrible, I hadn’t even noticed,” Bang Chan said, eyes dropping to the floor, a twinge of guilt tightening his chest. “What kind of leader does that make me?”
Seungmin reached out, resting a hand lightly on his shoulder. “You’re not a magician, hyung. You can’t read everyone’s mind all the time.”
Yongbok nodded slowly, his gaze moving from Chan to Seungmin. “And let’s remember, you’re exhausted too hyung… We all are. No one’s to blame here.”
After a pause, Felix let out a small a small, humorless laugh. “God… I hate it. I hate seeing them like this. I just wish we could… make them hug it out or something.”
Minho placed a hand over his cup, adding softly, “They just need the right moment.”
Seungmin leaned back, exhaling. “Waiting… That’s the hardest part.”
The room fell into a heavy silence after that, only broken by the faint hiss of the kettle still boiling in the kitchen, each of them lost in their thoughts, silently hoping the tension would ease before it caused more harm than they could fix.