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Jonghyun notices Jinki’s struggling about fifteen minutes into their practice session.
He’s already out of breath after a couple of run-throughs, sweat rolling down his nape and colouring the already dark grey of his shirt. He chalks it up to the fact they’ve just started, maybe it’s nerves—new album, all of that—and lets Jinki shake it off and give it another go.
But then it happens again. A third time.
The choreography for Lucifer is hard, and everyone knows his stamina isn’t the greatest, but Jinki is a good dancer—he shouldn’t be missing out on steps entirely. His footwork is all over the place, limp and uncoordinated, and Jonghyun can’t watch. He just wants to crowd Jinki into his arms and tell him it’s going to be okay. Relax.
He tries to catch Jinki’s attention during the break for water, but gets brushed off and tries to pretend it doesn’t hurt. Back in formation, Jonghyun stares at his back, the broad line of his shoulders, and winces when Jinki trips over himself again. He lets out a harsh breath and soldiers on.
Their dance teacher, however, doesn’t look so impressed.
Pulsing bass, electronic beats; Jonghyun can’t concentrate on anything but Jinki. The music fades into a hazy stream of background noise. He follows the choreography mindlessly and lets the lyrics wash over him.
When all he can hear is heavy breathing and the disappointed sigh of their instructor, Jonghyun tenses.
“You two.” He points at Minho, Taemin. “You were fine. Jonghyun, Key, you’re trying too hard. Loosen up.”
There’s a brief silence. A tension thick enough to suffocate. Jonghyun knows they can all feel it.
“Onew. What is going on with you?”
“I’m sorry,” Jinki says quietly.
“Do you even want to be in this group?”
“I do.” He looks down at his feet. “I’ll try harder, I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying sorry,” he snaps. “Do better. Sort yourself out. You’re a mess.”
Jinki hangs his head, mumbles a barely-there okay that gets swept back up into the loud introductory notes of the song.
From the top.
Jonghyun slumps against the practice room wall. Taemin passes him a bottle of water and slides down next to him, just as overwarm and exhausted as the rest of them.
“Jinki-hyung,” Taemin breathes between desperate gulps of his drink. “I feel bad for him.”
Jonghyun sighs through his teeth. “It was hard today.”
“Do you think he’s okay?”
And one look over at Jinki crouched over in the corner is enough for Jonghyun to tell. He’s doing that thing where he goes all stiff, mindlessly rocking back and forth on his heels, playing with the zipper on his sports bag like a scorned child that’s been put in time-out.
“I don’t know,” Jonghyun says. “I’ll speak to him.”
“I’m worried about him.” Taemin looks down at the floor, presses the damp fabric of his shirt between his fingers. “He doesn’t talk to me like he talks to you.”
It’s not like Taemin knows they’re together, but everyone knows that they’re close; that Jinki clings to Jonghyun’s side when he’s weary and soft, or that Jonghyun sometimes finds his way into Jinki’s bed when he can’t sleep. It’s normal, no one questions it. And Jonghyun realised long ago that Jinki won’t allow himself to burden someone so young with the weight of all his issues—that’s why Taemin seeks him out like this sometimes.
Jonghyun knows Jinki more intimately than his members could ever imagine. They’ve shared parts of themselves with each other that no one else is allowed to see, held hands through early morning car journeys to and from venues. Quietly, so no one else notices, stifled confessions of unending trust behind the backs of their managers.
Jonghyun loves him. That’s why it hurts so much; it’s almost as if Jonghyun can feel Jinki’s pain, too, an extra limb where they’re sewn at the hip.
So he promises Taemin that he will. He’ll get to the bottom of this and make sure Jinki’s up-and-ready for their schedules tomorrow with a smile on his face.
He’s not sure it’ll be that easy.
Taemin nods and cleans off his water bottle. “Thank you, hyung.”
It’s easier to stay at the dorm on nights like this. Huddling together for emotional support after long hours working seems to be a thing, and Jonghyun likes it, even if he won’t say it out loud. He likes Kibum with his guard down, when he lets Jonghyun sneak extra food onto his plate; he likes Minho and Taemin snuggled up in bed like a pair of newborn kittens; he likes Jinki open and laughing and smiling at crappy old-fashioned TV shows that only play at stupid hours.
He loves his friends. He wishes they could be like that all the time, but the air in their shared space has shifted, and their usual back-and-forth has trailed off into a thick silence.
When they’re all dressed down, Jonghyun helps Kibum order food. Their fridge is empty, and it’s been so long since they last ate something worthy, so calling up the nearest restaurant for takeout is easy and exciting.
Jinki doesn’t sit with them at the table. Jonghyun isn’t sure where he is, until he hears the familiar beat of Jinki’s footsteps wandering aimlessly down the hall. He doesn’t think twice about getting up to follow him, running to Jinki’s heel like an untrained puppy.
“Where are you going?”
“Shower,” Jinki says simply.
“Want me to join you?” Jonghyun replies quietly, knowing that Jinki sometimes likes the warmth of an extra body, or Jonghyun’s hands wrapped round his waist, kisses pressed to his neck—
“No. Thank you.”
And Jinki sulks all the way to the bathroom. All by himself.
Minho looks at Jonghyun from the table, big eyes sad and worried. His lips are pulled into a soft frown.
Jonghyun feels sick.
When Jinki doesn’t come back, Jonghyun is restless. He pulls at his sweatpants and swallows thick around an excuse to skulk off and slip into Jinki’s bedroom, feeling awkward when he stands to leave and no one says a thing. A quick apology, and Jonghyun is already halfway down the corridor.
The door to Jinki’s room is shut tight. Jonghyun knocks and is met with silence.
“Jinki-yah, it’s me,” he says gently. “Can I come in?”
He hears a faint yes, and Jonghyun thinks briefly that he would have pushed his way in regardless of Jinki’s answer.
Jonghyun closes the door behind him. It smells human, warm, just a little unpleasant—Jinki’s stuff is all over the place, screwed-up pieces of clothing and half-unpacked boxes of his things from home. He recognises Jinki’s sleep shirts, underwear, the thick denim of jeans and coats he hasn’t worn in months.
And there, in the middle of it all, Jinki lays nestled amongst a calculated mess of pillows and blankets.
Jonghyun doesn’t remember Jinki’s room being so unorganised. He wanders over and plants himself firmly next to Jinki’s body, letting the mattress dip under his weight.
“Hey, hyung.” Jonghyun ghosts his palm over Jinki’s shoulder. “You look cosy.”
Jinki groans and turns over onto his back, looking up at Jonghyun absentmindedly. He opens his mouth to say something, lips curled around the start of a sorry, maybe, but Jonghyun hushes him.
He cards his fingers through Jinki’s fringe to push it out of his face. It’s softer now it’s washed, still warm from the hairdryer, and longer than it’s been in a while. The colour is nice, too, a light brown that matches Jinki’s sparkly eyes and pretty smile.
Jonghyun misses that the most.
“Feeling okay?” he asks, not expecting an answer, stroking Jinki’s hair. A gentle sigh tumbles involuntarily past Jinki’s lips, but it isn’t reassuring at all. It just makes Jonghyun worry more.
He’s not relaxed, or even miserable; it’s something so much worse.
Jinki is just…blank. Staring ahead at nothing. He wishes Jinki would just curl up against his side and cry into his chest, throw a tantrum over something inconsequential, maybe, or even get angry at him like he had once before. Just anything that isn’t this. This awful sense of lethargic nothing.
“Hyung,” Jonghyun says softly, scratching gently against Jinki’s scalp just how he likes. “You should come and eat with us.”
Jinki makes a noncommittal sound. “I will.”
His voice sounds so empty. Jonghyun’s chest tightens. “Come on. We got takeout.”
“Sounds good,” Jinki says.
“Taemin’s probably in the middle of rationing out our portions,” Jonghyun tries. “We should hurry, they’re running laps around us in our old age.”
Jinki cracks a small smile. “They can have mine, if they want.”
Jonghyun just frowns. The conversation tapers off into a sad silence. He tries to get Jinki to relax into the soft touch of his fingers, but he remains stiff and off-balance. Even when Jonghyun lays down properly, snuggles against Jinki’s side, he still feels so…off. It’s awful.
He never knows what the right thing to do is.
“You can talk to me.” Jonghyun presses himself closer, whispers against Jinki’s hair, hand resting where he can feel Jinki’s ribcage under the cotton of his shirt.
“It’s fine.” Jinki tries brushing him off again. “I just need to do better.”
“Hyung, it’s okay,” Jonghyun says. “Everyone has their off days. Don’t beat yourself up over a mistake.”
Jinki hums and closes his eyes.
He gets like this sometimes. Stuck on one little thing, worrying silently until it starts to eat away at him—he won’t say anything out loud until Jonghyun coaxes it out of him. For now, it’s nice just being close like this again, Jonghyun thinks.
The calm of Jinki’s room is disrupted only by their soft breathing and muffled voices from across the hall. Jonghyun runs his fingers across Jinki’s collarbone, trailing a faint line down to his chest, where Jinki’s heart pulses slow and measured. He could fall asleep right here, with Jinki’s heartbeat under his fingertips, relaxing into the gentle warmth of his body.
Jonghyun lets his eyes close, too. Jinki is tangible and grounding. An anchor, a wonderful, positive force in Jonghyun’s otherwise hectic life. Sometimes he wishes everything could just stop and let them be for a while—no more fear or uncertainty or room for Jinki’s insecurities to fester into something scary and unmanageable.
He could stay like this forever.
“Jonghyun-ah,” Jinki says suddenly.
“What’s up? Feeling hungry?” Jonghyun looks at his profile, the curve of his nose, his half-lidded eyes. Beautiful, so pretty.
“I just…”
“You can tell me. Just say it.”
Jinki swallows. “I’m so tired,” his voice shakes. “I don’t know if I can do it anymore.”
Oh, hearing it said so plainly makes Jonghyun sick. He hugs Jinki tighter, if that’s even possible, until it’s hard to tell where each of their limbs begin and end.
Jinki doesn’t even flinch. His voice sounds so weak, preoccupied with a shaky breath. “…I can’t do it anymore.”
“Oh, baby.” Jonghyun leans up to press a kiss to his temple. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
Jinki trembles but he doesn’t cry.
Jonghyun feels so helpless. They’ve got concert halls booked into the new year, there’s choreography to learn, songs to record and mix; each minute of their lives planned out for them. No room for breaks or even adequate rest.
He wishes it was different. What can he do apart from hold Jinki until it doesn’t hurt as badly anymore?
“Everything’s going to be fine. We’re all looking out for you, hyung. You don’t have to worry about anything.”
Jinki sighs and wriggles out of Jonghyun’s arms. He curls back over onto his side, away from Jonghyun, into the tiny space he occupies on his bed. It’s like he’s trying to make himself as small as possible.
Should he back off? Give Jinki some breathing room? Is he being overbearing, too much? He reaches out to feel Jinki again, even if it’s selfish, letting the pads of his fingers brush against where Jinki’s shirt is bunched up at his waist.
“I’m here,” Jonghyun murmurs. “Just let me in.”
Jinki’s breath hitches. Everything slows down.
“Jonghyunnie,” so gentle. “Can you hold me?”
A breakthrough, Jonghyun thinks, however small; to bring Jinki to the point of asking for things, for closeness and affection and love. He draws his hand up to Jinki’s stomach.
“You never have to ask,” Jonghyun says. “Come here.”
He shifts until Jinki’s tucked against him, with Jonghyun’s arms around his waist; he smells warm, like the unscented shampoo he uses, and so very Jinki. Jonghyun kisses his nape and inhales sharply, stroking his hip, slipping his fingers up Jinki’s t-shirt to feel the soft skin there.
Jinki shivers.
Maybe on a good day Jonghyun would have kissed Jinki breathless. He would have Jinki underneath him, coming undone at his hand, and maybe Jinki would return the favour with his mouth like they’ve both done so many times before. It always works, and nothing makes Jonghyun happier than making Jinki feel good. But this isn’t one of those days, and Jonghyun knows when to back off.
So he lets Jinki press against him. He lets Jinki close his eyes and relax in his arms, drawing soothing circles against Jinki’s tummy with his palm, just how he likes, basking in the warmth of his skin. It’s nice to feel him reciprocate like this.
Despite everything, Jinki is still so warm and soft and inviting—and he doesn’t even know it. He can’t recognise all these wonderful things about himself. How awful is that?
“Jinki,” Jonghyun lets his name roll off his tongue. “You’re so lovely.”
Jinki shifts a little closer and sighs.
“You have a beautiful voice. You’re kind, and funny, and so handsome.” He squeezes Jinki’s hip. “You look after me, after all of us, so well. You always know exactly what to say. There’s so many things I love about you, my beautiful, talented Jinki-yah.”
“Stop it,” Jinki says quietly.
Jonghyun kisses his neck. “Not until you see it, too.”
He’ll say it as many times as he needs to.
Dragging Jinki out of bed proves to be easier than he expected. He’s a little brighter now, hair tucked behind his ears and tied above his nape in a cute little ponytail. Jonghyun holds his hand all the way to the kitchen, lets Jinki take his time to readjust before being thrown back into the fast-flowing current of conversation at the table.
Turns out, Jinki still can’t resist the mouth-watering smell of deep fried food.
Minho helps load up a plate for Jinki, still warm and steaming under the low light of their dining area. Kibum reaches up to flatten down Jinki’s flyaway hairs. Taemin kicks his foot under the table and smiles so big his eyes flatten into crescents.
See how loved you are? Jonghyun looks over at Jinki, catching his gaze as he smiles around a mouthful of meat and rice. Don’t ever forget it.
Jonghyun can breathe again. His palm settles on Jinki’s thigh.
Everything is going to be okay.