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He doesn't have the right, none at all.
Soonyoung doesn't have the right to admonish Seokmin for having so many schedules and not getting enough sleep from it afterwards; Soonyoung doesn't.
And if he does, he's just being a hypocrite anyway, because everyone knows it's actually him who sleeps the latest. Being a choreographer doesn't exactly have maximum sleeping hours as one of its perks.
("What about Seungkwan? Seokmin doesn't exactly come to Sukira alone, you know, but I never see you fret about him." Wonwoo said once, in a passing.
And he supposed that's actually true, but it's not as if he doesn't care about Seungkwan, doesn't worry over his soul brother who pushes his vocal cords to the max that someone must step inside the studio to stop him from bleeding his throat all over the floor, but Wonwoo doesn't understand, nobody does, this is different, this is very different—
—this is Lee Seokmin, and to Soonyoung, he has always been different.)
At the odd times Seokmin actually came home to Soonyoung still dancing away, the former was never allowed to join.
"You need to sleep," Soonyoung would say. Everyday, every night that it happens, Soonyoung wouldn't ever allow Seokmin in. The latter would whine about how unfair it is that the elder could dance until it was 3 am even though he's already so good at it, but not letting the more incompetent members in to polish their own skills. But Soonyoung would counter that midnight to morning aren't practice time, it's choreo-making time, and hyung doesn't have an outside schedule anyway, so he can sleep in whenever he want. Seokmin, on the other hand, has much to do outside, and he couldn't be late for tomorrow's schedule, so shoo and let hyung concentrate.
Seokmin has always been a good and obedient dongsaeng, so even though he was complaining and sulking all the while, he would always went ahead to the bedroom he shared with Seungkwan and Jisoo. Though not before telling Soonyoung not to sleep too late as he smiled his little smile, not exactly the usual blinding light of a blazing sun, but more like the slow burn of a crackling fire in the middle of a winter night.
(His imaginary side would think that that particular smile was reserved for him, but delusions could only go so far.)
And then Soonyoung would continue his routine, trying to freeze his jelly, molten legs back together in the unwelcomed cold creeping in the room (the heater broke, he noted) so they would actually dance and not traipse around like some kind of retired war horse. But even after he finally went to bed while shivering from the near-frostbite; the warmth from Seokmin's smile stayed snug and fastened inside his heart.
(That night, Soonyoung sleeps with an insistent throb in his chest. He knows what it means, knows what it entails; that he's satisfied for the night, but could never be actually satisfied for all time. He knows, but nobody knows, so he pretends not to know.
At this point, Soonyoung couldn't really differentiate between want and need anymore; he stopped bothering a long time ago.
Soonyoung is but a greedy, greedy human.)
He knows it's not his business, yet he can't help but fret. Soonyoung tried reasoning with himself, though, because who wouldn't be worried when your bandmate hadn't come home when it's already 3 AM?
He was actually going home early for once (2 AM is kind of a few hours ahead from his usual time home), and perhaps it was habit from having such an exponential amount of members, but he found himself doing a head count as soon as he arrived, checking in each of their rooms to do so.
(Sometimes it was hard to swallow, but the fact that he's one of the leaders of Seventeen still remained.)
Imagine his surprise when no matter how many times he counted, he only arrived to eleven, excluding himself.
He checked everywhere for signs of that one missing person, but even though he returned to the same room numerous times, the count still stayed at eleven.
Knowing who exactly went AWOL is hard when almost all of their faces are covered, yet Soonyoung was anything if not determined. For that cause, he started to count and searched thoroughly for the number's owner.
He felt his heart stop as his count, too, stopped at the 8th mark.
He repeated the tiring process of recounting again and again, but it didn't change, the number still hadn't got a master.
Seokmin is number eight's master, and he's nowhere to be found.
He couldn't call him, he left his cell phone with his manager. He couldn't go out and find him either; he has no clue where Seokmin would be at this hour. Seokmin was usually fast asleep by this time.
It's 3 AM in the morning, and instead of resting, Soonyoung found himself in sheer panic.
Like a madman, he begin to count again, trying again when the count never reached thirteen. Searching again, even though he already looked through every nook and cranny.
By 5 AM, there was a creak on the doorway, and Soonyoung, with teary and bloodshot eyes filled with anxiety and fear, almost tripped in his haste to check it. 5 AM, and there Lee Seokmin was, leisurely taking off his shoes like he just walked home from a relaxing stroll.
Soonyoung was about to rage, but Seokmin didn't quite let him, if unintentionally. "Soonyoung-hyung? You're here?" he said, confusion lacing his question. "Wait, were you crying? What's wrong?" And Soonyoung hated that he preened in how imminent the worry in his sentence was.
But it wasn't the time to be flattered.
"Where were you? Do you realize what time is it?" Soonyoung was so close to heaving with rage, but he's an adult. He could be calm about this. "It's 5 AM, Seokmin. You should've been in bed, sleeping. You know full well that rest is important for you, what are you doing up and about?"
It probably came out sharper than he intended, with how stunned Seokmin looked like. But Seokmin needs to know that returning in the ass crack of dawn wasn't even remotely a good idea.
"And did you tell the others that you're returning this late? Or rather, early? Do you know how worried they're going to be when they woke up? You could've at least left a note!" Seokmin opened his mouth, probably to make a rebuttal, but Soonyoung's not in the mood to hear excuses.
"What if you went missing? Nobody would know where you are, because you didn't bother to inform them! Seokmin, when will you learn to be responsible!?" Soonyoung finally exploded, and maybe the volume of his voice would wake up the whole dorm, but he couldn't careless at the moment.
Seokmin's previous guilty look disappeared gradually as his voice rose, and maybe he should've hear out what Seokmin was trying to say before he jumped to his own conclusion, because Seokmin looked visibly annoyed. And Lee Seokmin did not get annoyed for no reason.
"Hyung," he started slowly, deliberately. "Has it ever occured to you that maybe I already told someone? That maybe everyone knows I'm going out, that's why they're sound asleep in their own room? That they trust me enough to leave me to my own devices?"
Soonyoung clearly didn't thought of that; he was wrapped in his own dreadful fantasy that he failed to think of other things beside Seokmin, Seokmin, Seokmin. And it probably shows in his face, because Seokmin's own facial feature darkened considerably.
"And what do you have to say for yourself? This is the first time in days that you came home before dawn, you think you have any right to talk about me having to rest when you barely do that?" Seokmin's tone was sharp, piercing. He was aiming to hurt.
It was Soonyoung's turn to try to rebut, but karma always finds its way, because Seokmin didn't want to listen. He already knows what he wants to say, anyway.
"And don't give me that 'I'm making choreography' bullshit. You think you can make some new dance when you live off two hours worth of sleep in two days? You think what you're doing right now is called 'working hard'? Snap out of it, hyung!" He was aiming to hurt, and boy did it does. "I'm not a kid you saw at Pledis' corridor, trying to find the audition room anymore, hyung. I don't need your permission in everything I do." Soonyoung trembled, not because of how crass Seokmin was being, but because he was right.
Seokmin was furious, and a furious Seokmin would stop at nothing until he made sure that he planted the peg deep into his heart.
"If you bothered coming out of that room once in a while, hyung, you would know where I was headed to. If you had let me in whenever I asked, you would know. But you didn't, hyung. You never did come out.
You never did care."
The knife was stabbed, the deed was done. Seokmin's gaze didn't relent at all even as Soonyoung's own was already filled with tears that were threatening to drop any moment. He didn't even feel it when Seokmin shoved his way in by shouldering Soonyoung; he felt numb all over.
By this time, half of the members have woken up (they didn't exactly keep their volume in check) to witness the fight between usually pliant pair of best friends. It's like witnessing a civil war, and not even the emperor dared to interrupt it.
(Soonyoung didn't get a wink of sleep that night. His heart keeps throbbing with the hurtful accusations that he doesn't care, you don't care, Kwon Soonyoung, you don't.
Soonyoung was honestly tired of caring, so he pretend, pretend, pretend, because it's supposed to hurt less if you pretend that you don't care.
Soonyoung's a filthy, filthy human.)
Soonyoung didn't bother to dwell on yesterday, or more precisely, he didn't want to. So he searched for a distraction. He didn't actually need to search, he mused, as he yet again stepped inside the room that might as well be his now. The new choreo wasn't done yet, anyway.
Spending time in a room alone for more than ten hours is bound to make anyone go numb for sure, though, especially if you spent it by moving so much that the floor is practically cleansed by the amount of sweat you excreted. Not to mention the crippling sense of isolation that oozed out of every corner of the room the dim lighting couldn't reach.
True, the members take turns visiting him from time to time, but they know better than to bother Soonyoung when he was on a roll. Even Seungcheol could only manage a mumbled confirmation out of him when the leader asked if he had actually rest and eaten.
Nobody talked about Seokmin.
To be fair, this wasn't a rare occurrence, Soonyoung locking himself up in the dance room. In fact, it's actually pretty common. The members usually don't check him pretty often either, but the... disagreements he had with Seokmin yesterday probably worried them. Otherwise it's the same cycle as always; they have to dance, must create a new routine, Soonyoung lost some sleep, Soonyoung got an inspiration, Soonyoung locking himself in one of the practice room, Soonyoung came out with new moves, Soonyoung demonstrating it to the members, members putting in their piece, dance perfected, song performed. Repeat.
But when Soonyoung wasn't just dancing to dance, his mind tend to wander, and usually into dangerous territories; like how he's proud to say that he's got the most hands in making their choreographies, but he always wondered if that's enough to grant him the actual title and position. He never really believed it, not even when he read 'choreographer' and 'Hoshi' in the same sentence, not even when he got additional paycheck for his works. It doesn't feel real, never has been.
More often than not though, reality tends to splash your face with ice cold truth that yes, you're the choreographer, Kwon Soonyoung, and without you, the group wouldn't be able to dance at all. Without you, the title self-producing idol would've gone to hell for its imbalance since whoa would you look at that, that guy named Woozi does everything himself. Even though the group has thirteen members, he's the only one making music. He's the only one who does the work, the others just waited for the song. They're enslaving him.
And he would go to hell and back to deny all of that. All the members worked hard, they just have different roles that aren’t as visible as Jihoon's. But to deny such accusations, he must work harder than others. And with him taking another "visible" role, at least, maybe, Jihoon wouldn't feel too pressured. Hey, here's the guy who's just as pressured as you, misery loves company right?
But pressure is pressure, and when the spotlight called responsibility takes a liking to you, they'll latch on to you like a parasite would its vessel. Even when you stepped out of the stage, they'll stay, with no intention of ever going away. But they're pretty lenient in loosing their hold, too, like when you finished a performance. But euphoria is called euphoria because of their fleeting nature, and when they left you grasping after their wisp-like trail in vain; responsibility will come haunting you again like a lost soul finding its prey. Misery loves company, but the thought that Jihoon is struggling as much as, maybe even more than him, curiously has done nothing to comfort him.
And with discomfort comes restlessness; insomnia abounds, fitful sleeps and waking up in the middle of the night. Mind left wondering, body wandering as he pondered about things to improve, once again ending up in the same room he was so sick of yesterday. But no matter how hard he worked to perfect the moves, the tiredness catches on, and the result of such state was a poor rendition of what was yesterday; which would inevitably resulted in anger. Over the ugliness, the unworthiness, the helplessness.
The loneliness.
And when that happens, Soonyoung knows he has hit rock bottom, because as far he knows, everything hurts. Being around twelve other adolescents with hormones ramped up to full power in a cramped apartment was the recipe for loud and noisy, certainly not the place to feel dull and lonely. But when he's in this state, nothing helps; not the incessant wailing of Chan and his inability to solve problem number five, not the endless bickering of Mingyu and Minghao on whether the former had or had not misplaced the latter's headphone, not the indecipherable English conversation between Hansol and Jisoo which no one bothers to listen to at all, not the crackling sound of the TV as Jun and Jeonghan proceeds to smack the joy out of it to get some signal, not the rustling of Wonwoo's book as he turned the pages deftly with his lean fingers,—
—and certainly not the way Jihoon and Seungcheol smiled at each other as the latter coaxed the smaller out of his room.
(Soonyoung has no right, none at all—)
When he's in this state, nothing helps. But the sight of his so-called company in misery, smiling as he left the room with a company that was very well not made out of misery, actually managed to make the pain much worse.
Nothing helps. Everything hurts.
(Soonyoung knows, God, he knows it all too well. Knows why he's hurting at the sight he witnessed, which aspect of the sight that hurts him, what kind of company he wants to make the hurt disappear, who he wants to make it all disappear—)
A fluid dancer he was called, yet when he needed his ability the most, his muscles refused to move a single cell to do a thing, anything—walk out, go away, hide, lock the door because no one can open it anyway, no one is coming to get you out, Soonyoung, no one—
"Soonyoung-hyung?"
The sudden voice put his quickly spiraling thoughts to an abrupt stop. It's the voice that keeps him company in his dreams and haunts him in his nightmares, and God the presence should've been soothing, even if they had a fight the day before, it should've been comforting, should've been the remedy he was looking for, but—
"Hyung? Why are you standing there like a statue?"
—but he's not alone, he's with somebody. He's never alone, he's always with somebody.
He's never alone with Soonyoung, he's always with somebody else.
(Envy and jealousy meshed themselves into one rhythm, and Soonyoung must say he has never been subject to such a sickening dance.)
The realization hit him like a storm, and he guessed that's the consequence of pretending not to know for so long. The force of it got him reeling back, crashing onto the wall behind him. Shock rammed him over like a freight train, air suddenly scarce as he desperately tried to breath. And like a hit and run accident, he was deaf to all surroundings, sight blurred and unfocused as the only thing keeping him afloat was the thing that made him drown in the first place.
He distantly heard Seungkwan's shrill scream of panic, terror dripping out of every syllable uttered. Rushed footsteps coming towards him, like stampede of horses galloping. Hands, hands, hands; on his head, on his waist, on his legs, touching, carrying. Vision swaying, dots of tinted colors splayed across his irises.
And even when the colorful dots burned into black as his eyes swarmed around looking for that person, everything fading from his sight, Seokmin was still nowhere to be found.
(Soonyoung is but an ugly, ugly human.)
He woke up slowly. Carefully.
Every part of his body felt like lead, and it doesn't compare to the strain his muscles get after continous dancing for hours on end. Everything hurts. It's like he's a newborn, or something.
But he can move now. It wasn't like he was frozen into place anymore. Strenuous, yes, stiff at best, but much better than before. He noted that he was breathing easier than before, too. Small mercies.
With heavy limbs, he slowly sat up. He's on a bed, he realized. He's still at the dorm, too, just maybe not his room. Whose room is he in?
"Mine. Well, Seungkwan's, Jisoo-hyung's, and my room."
Soonyoung's head snapped up to the direction the voice came from. Since when was Seokmin there?
Seeing Soonyoung's reaction, he let out a wry smile. "You were mumbling your thoughts out loud, hyung. It's not like I'm suddenly an esper." If he could, Soonyoung would like to give Seokmin a big red A+ for effort, circled and bolded; he's probably the only one on earth able to create such a forced laughter without it coming out as fake.
"....Since when were you here?"
"From the start. Why, were you mumbling something else? Something not meant for my ears?" Seokmin's tone was sharp, scarily so, and Soonyoung could only hold his breath.
The harsh glint in his eyes faded away soon enough, though. And in the blink of an eye, it was quickly replaced by something akin to regret, and concern.
"Hyung?" he starts to speak. "What...” He gulps, breathe hitching. "What's wrong? What happened? Why did you... why did you suddenly faint?" Seokmin's eyes darted on every spot visible on Soonyoung's face, fluttering, searching, like he could found an answer out of the gaping pores in his face, in the sleepy swell of his cheeks, in the pupils whose visibility from the outside was scarce in the first place.
The question didn't immediately register in Soonyoung's head. After what seems like an hour, he closed his tired eyes, resignation managing to seep into his eyes amidst the pure exhaustion blanketing them, snuggling warm and cozy into his very being. "What are you talking about?" he mutters, choosing to once again pretend as his soft yet thunderous voice echoes in the space between them and catapulted the tension in the room into another level.
Soonyoung heard rather than saw Seokmin sucking in a deep breath, and the sound was so shaky and nervous, so brittle and vulnerable. It's all too similar to the tell-tale sign of Seokmin going into one of his moods. And in Soonyoung's opinion, it's the worst kind of mood; because nothing is more painful than seeing Seokmin, Lee Seokmin, resident sunshine and his personal moonlight in the darkest of his sleepless nights, crumple in the corner of the room, oxygen trapped in his lungs as he struggled through the sobs wrecking his body from the inside out.
He didn't want Seokmin to cry. Never wanted to from the start, that's why he pretended this feelings he has for the other doesn't exist in the first place, because he knows it will only result in Seokmin getting hurt like this, will only result in Seokmin—
"It's my fault, isn't it?"
—blaming himself. Like this.
"Seokmin-ah, it's not you, I swear—"
Suddenly, Seokmin's eyes went back to that hard, unrelenting gaze they held before, a gaze so icy; Soonyoung would've been lying if he said he wasn't the least bit scared of it.
"Don't lie to me, Kwon Soonyoung." he growled. It was so intimidating; Soonyoung could feel the fear crawling up his spine unwillingly.
"You think we'll just make you lay down here after you fainted in the middle of the hallway? No, of course we got a doctor to come here. And you know what he said?"
Well, no. No, he didn't, but that doctor better not be making the others worry themselves needlessly over him.
"He said—he said you were stressed, hyung. He said you were really spent, and not just physically. Don't even try to argue with me," he warned just as Soonyoung was about to protest, now standing up from his initial position on the bed opposite the dancer. "Because I know. I know you were stressed, still are. And most of all, I know I was the cause."
Just like that, the scary Seokmin was gone. His shoulders were hunched over out of defeat and resignation, hands hanging limply at his sides after the grand show of his borderline-hysterical gestures. A sad smile creeping onto his face as he spoke.
"But just because you hate me, hyung, so much that you couldn't even bear the sight of me," Seokmin's voice was so gentle, like a lullaby singing him to sleep as he crouched down in front of him. Soonyoung would very much like to cup his cheeks then, tell him that if there's any sentence in this world that couldn't be more false, it's that Kwon Soonyoung hates Lee Seokmin.
But Seokmin's not finished.
"Just because of that, doesn't mean you should sacrifice your health over... this," he gestured to himself, as if trying to convince Soonyoung that Seokmin's not really worth anything. "You hate me, so I understand why you wouldn't talk to me. But you should've talked to someone, anyone. You can't just bottle them up. There are other guys—"
There are other guys.
Seokmin was still rambling, talking about unnecessary things Soonyoung didn't bother to hear nor listen to, because that's the only thing he heard.
There are other guys, Seokmin said.
"There's nobody else, Seokmin."
Well, that one got the vocalist to shut up, at least. The silence would make all the feelings he would laid bare much clearer than he would like, especially in this heightened sense of urgency; the urgency to correct what Seokmin assumed, to add on what Seokmin said, to confess to Seokmin—
"It's always you," he breathed out. "It's always been you. There's nobody else, because it's been you, only you, for so long now. You think I have time to think about other guys?" Soonyoung was so worked up; he didn't realize he stood up. "When I was dancing with my unit, I think about how you're going to like a certain part. When I was recording for our new song, I think about how well you're going to sing the verse. When I tried my hands in writing lyrics, it always, always comes out as something depicting you. You're the one I like, Lee Seokmin, so tell me how you could think that there are other guys!?"
Soonyoung was panting in the end of it all, and he would probably regret that monologue for the rest of his life, but it's already out in the open now. And no matter what kind of consequences he would face, he'll take it on like he knows a real man will.
Like he knows Kwon Soonyoung will.
"...Um," Seokmin blinked rapidly, as if adjusting to the light of the room, even if it hasn't flickered at all in the time they were talking. It was understandable, though, Soonyoung mused. What a big surprise it must be for him, to get confessed by a band mate. One he was surely going to hate, even.
"Didn't you, aren't you—" if Soonyoung wasn't exhausted beyond reason, he would've laughed at how flustered Seokmin looked right now. "You... didn't you hate me?" he questioned, tone laced with confusion.
"How do you even come to that conclusion?" he muttered tiredly, body sagging as the tension in his whole being stopped being his backbone. "You're the one who's gonna hate me, anyway. I just ruined our friendship, after all."
"How—how, you said!?" Seokmin spluttered with disbelief, incredulous practically written all over his face. His eyes seemed to be torn between narrowing or widening. "Hyung, in just the span of two days, you pushed me out in every attempt I do to spend time with you, or even just doing my duty as a member that includes doing things with you, chewed me out for going out without you knowing—that one's absolute nonsense, by the way—and then proceeded to faint right after seeing me standing doing nothing to bother you! If that isn't hate, hyung, I really don't want to see the real thing."
Well, now that the things he did was being spelled out, it really did felt like something an enemy would do. But he didn't hate Seokmin, he swear. Saying Soonyoung hates Seokmin is like saying water is dry, or something. He didn't hate Seokmin, he just... "I was trying to avoid you, you moron." he sighed. He really doesn't want to have this conversation right now. Preferably never. "I got mad at you when you came home late because I don't want you to get tired and get sick; seeing your crush bedridden sucks big time, you know." chewing his lips, he hesitated on saying his next words. "You probably didn't notice, but I always ask about you to the members. I probably know your schedule more than manager-nim." he chuckled wryly. He's so obsessive.
"And yesterday. I know your schedule should've been finished way before, but you didn't come home. I was worried, that's why I snapped at you."
"I was going to tell you—"
"—but I didn't listen. I know. Sorry."
Seokmin didn't answer after that. He supposed that's just expected, Seokmin has a lot to think about.
Like how their relationship will change from now on. No longer would they be the duo part of Boosoonseok, no longer would they host Soonseok Talk, no longer would they become the grandparents couple.
He should've known; fire never lasts long in winter.
But then Seokmin spoke up, "Can you say it again?" And Soonyoung... Had no idea what he meant.
Soonyoung didn't have the energy to reply nor point out that he doesn't understand what Seokmin meant (for once), so he stayed silent. Seokmin probably understood his silence as a need for elaboration, though, because a second later, he said, "That you like me. Can you say it again?"
Seokmin never managed to not amaze him. To think he'd ask that, of all things.
"Hyung, please. I need to hear it again. I need to know I wasn't imagining things. I need to know... That you like me back, hyung."
Soonyoung blinked. What did he just say?
Seokmin inhaled shakily, but his voice didn't waver when he speak. "I like you, Soonyoung-hyung. From the moment you guided me to that audition room, I've liked you, and not as friends. So please repeat what you just said so that I won't think that this is all a dream."
Soonyoung was probably dreaming. This felt too unreal. Weren't they fighting just yesterday?
But he supposed, since he's in a dream anyway, he might as well enjoy it before he woke up.
"I.." He began. "I like you, Seokmin-ah." It feels good to say it, even if it's just in a dream. "I really like you." He repeated through his hoarse voice.
Seokmin didn't miss a beat when he replied. "I like you too, Soonyoung-hyung." And Soonyoung could see the hint of a smile blooming from the corner of his lips. Now that's the Seokmin he knows and loves.
"I like you." Seokmin continued as he came closer. "Kwon Soonyoung, I like you the most in the world." He crouched down in front of Soonyoung, not relenting with his unending confessions. "You're the most beautiful human being I've ever encountered, hyung. There's no one else like you."
And the thought that this is all just a dream hurt him like no other, because. Because Seokmin won't, he won't. He won't ever say these things to Soonyoung in real life.
Seokmin cupped his cheeks then, wiping his skin clean from the tears that streamed out of his eyes without him knowing. "This is real, hyung." He whispered, like he hadn't just read through Soonyoung like an open book. "This is all real, it's not a dream. I like you, and you actually like me back. It's real."
Now, Soonyoung could definitely feel the tears; it's choking him up, wrestling to come out of his lungs like trapped birds rushing out of their cage. He couldn't even articulate a response to Seokmin, not when he's realizing, not when he stopped pretending that all of this is real.
That Seokmin is here, with him, saying that he likes Soonyoung back. It's all real.
(They ended up crying together, and nobody knows who first hugged the other, to be honest. All they know is that they're getting snot on each other's shirt, and Mingyu would totally approve, but they couldn't careless at the moment.
They passed out with red rimmed eyes and heavy bags under their eyes; arms tangled beyond imagination that you can't even figure out which limb goes where. It's uncomfortable, but it's the best sleep Soonyoung has gotten in forever. The trobbing in his chest is gone.
Maybe Soonyoung's not such a terrible human being, after all.)
"Hyung, it's time to eat! It's already past noon!"
"Wait! Five more minutes!"
"Okay, I'll carry you out."
"Ah, Seokmin! I was just about to finish making the choreo!"
"No can do, hyung, it's dinner time. You can't afford to skip another meal."
"Che, fine. You're more like a mother rather than a boyfriend, sometimes."
"You're more like my son rather than my boyfriend sometimes, too."
"...Hey, Seokmin?"
"What is it?"
"Thank you for getting me out."
"You're welcome, hyung."
"Will you get me out after this, too?"
"Always, hyung. Always."