Chapter Text
When Jo was a lot younger he had quite a different view on life. Actually no, he thought to himself, that was wrong. Fuma would tell him that he was not a lot younger, as it was only four years ago that he was still a trainee and if that made him a lot younger, then Fuma would be a lot older. Jo laughed at that one, which was also a lie because Jo didn’t really laugh, but rather smile in a way which twisted his whole face into something cheeky and cute and so completely Jo, that it was as much as a laugh as Maki’s barks and Taki’s cackling – Fuma also told him that. But when Jo meant younger, he really meant inexperienced, in the same way that Fuma didn’t mean older, but instead much more tired. Euijoo said that they were all tired, and age didn’t determine that, but Yuma yelled that was only because Euijoo was old too, and that made Euijoo all grumpy, which made Jo laugh again.
“I don’t know, I mean I'm pretty tired?” Jo said, kicking a leg out gently to rest his foot against Euijoo’s thigh, which he pulled up to his chest as he pouted.
“That’s because you’re an insomniac, not because you’re old.” Yuma said, very matter of factly, which caused Fuma to bark out a laugh, maybe that was where Maki got it from. Euijoo was muttering to himself about never catching a break and rolling his eyes in a very unthreatening way, and Jo was trying not to laugh, because he was supposed to be on Euijoo’s side. Not that there were sides, there never were in their group – apart from when there apparently was, like when Yuma and Nicholas weren’t talking, and apparently Jo had to be on Yuma’s side because of like same-age loyalty or something.
“No, I just mean, I don’t want the kids to worry that their problems aren’t serious because they are young,” Euijoo clarified, and Jo’s stifled laugh melted into an endeared smile as he tapped his foot harder against Euijoo's leg, pressing into his soft pajama bottoms as a sign of support and appreciation. At least, he hoped that was what came across, and not that he was just kicking him while he was down. Jo let that thought dissipate though, Euijoo would get it, and if he didn’t, Jo would pull him to the side later and tell him that he was grateful for all the work Euijoo put in to help them grow up in an industry that killed childhoods. Younger Jo, or rather ‘inexperienced’ Jo, would cling onto that thought like a dark cloud, over analysing and assessing exactly every movement he made, cringing over eye contact and awkward, stilted words.
Yuma sighed like all of this was a great inconvenience for him, clambering unceremoniously onto the hotel bed he’d been leaning against, and Fuma smiled at Euijoo fondly. “We know,” Fuma’s voice was soft and steady, deep with an experience and understanding of Euijoo specifically. “I just don’t like being old,” His face opened into a toothy grin, making Euijoo smile too, kicking the older man away and shrugging as he pushed himself up off of the floor. “Okay, sorry for killing the vibe,”
“Ew, never say vibe again, you sound like an old man,” Yuma whined from his bed. Jo looked over, feeling a bit awkward to be the only one still on the floor as Fuma had gotten up with Euijoo, and so stood too. Yuma wasn’t being mean, he just didn’t like difficult conversations. Euijoo understood that the same way he understood that Fuma had insecurities about his time as a trainee, that probably stemmed from his age, which was why he always joked about it – despite it causing Kei to whine that if Fuma was old, then he was ancient. And everyone knew not to comment, because where Fuma had insecurities about his age, Kei had insecurities about everything.
“Fine, I guess we are not cool or hip enough to be here, so we are leaving,” Fuma snickered, pulling on Euijoo’s arm as he lead him towards the door, signifying the end of what Yuma liked to call ‘circle time’, which was essentially where the four of them would sit and quietly acknowledge one another where the other members wouldn’t understand. No, that's not fair. It’s not that the other members wouldn’t understand, Jo had no belief that any of them could have anything but love in their hearts, but they just wouldn’t get it the same way. They’d never spoken about it of course, god forbid someone actually say something and start all sorts of uncomfortable conversations, but it wasn’t that they hid it either. At first, Jo felt all sorts of awkward around Fuma, someone older, and cooler, with more experience. Someone who had not just kissed boys, but loved men. It made Jo shy, just like everything else did when he was still a trainee, too small for his body which towered over the others around him.They’d gravitated towards each other, but it took years. A knowing look there, a cheeky smile when they’d go out, a quiet hug after Euijoo tried not to cry in the dark one evening, when he and Jo had shared a room.
That night, Euijoo didn’t come to bed after dinner, which wasn’t unusual. He’d stayed up with Nicholas, doing whatever they did together. Laughing, playing games, drinking. Euijoo didn’t even really like to drink, but Nicholas did, so. Jo should’ve been asleep, but Yuma was right, he was an insomniac. Years ago he’d have thought it would’ve been better if he was, but Jo wasn’t so young anymore, and so when Euijoo crept in late at night, hiccuping softly to himself and rubbing his eyes as tear tracks stained them, Jo opened his arms and pulled his leader in tight.
“Are you okay?” Jo asked and chastised himself immediately afterwards, because obviously Euijoo was not okay, and the older boy’s arms just shook more, silently sobbing. Jo wondered if Euijoo thought that if no one could hear him, no one would see him, and that Jo should have just not looked. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean that.” Jo stumbled over his words, sleep shirt going damp as Euijoo pressed his face into Jo’s chest. “Can I do anything to help?” Euijoo shook his head. It was a slow thing, a gentle movement weighed down by acceptance and understanding that there was nothing he could do. Jo winced, tugging Euijoo tighter to him and pulling him towards his bed so that he didn’t have to stand. “Do you want to tell me what's wrong?” Euijoo laughed slightly at that, if you could call it a laugh. It was more of a punched out sigh, fueled by self pity.
“No, I think I’d rather do anything else.” Jo froze at that one, the words stinging slightly before he scolded himself. This wasn’t about him, and he was selfish for thinking that Euijoo’s words were personal. Jo knew he wasn’t the best at comforting people, usually that was Euijoo’s job. Euijoo’s words were never personal, as he was probably the most selfless person Jo knew – other than Kei of course.
“Do you want me to take you to the hyungs?” Jo asked. He didn’t want to seem like he was trying to get out of the interaction, shrug off the responsibility of making sure Euijoo was okay, even though he clearly wasn’t doing a very good job, because it was obvious that Euijoo was not okay, and Jo had no clue what to do about it.
“No, no, please no, I change my mind – anything but that.” His sobbing had become less painful now, more resigned, and Euijoo pulled his face away from Jo’s chest. Jo was glad it was dark, that he hadn’t moved to turn the lights on, because then Euijoo would see that Jo was also about to cry, and the extent to how far out of his depth he was.
Euijoo always wanted to be with the hyungs. It wasn’t as if he didn’t like the younger members, not at all, Euijoo was always there when they needed him, but anyone could see how much he relied on Kei, placed his trust in Fuma and found comfort in Nicholas. So the fact that he didn’t want to see them, or even speak about them, threw Jo for a bit of a loop. “I’m sorry Jo, I didn’t think you’d be awake.” They both grimaced at that, Euijoo looked shy the second he’d said it. Everyone knew about Jo’s bedtime problem, bedtime being the problem, the fact that he couldn’t fall asleep at all reflected in his hollow eyes.
Kei always fretted over him, deciding that he must not be eating enough, and that was the reason for the hollowness in his face. Maki had rolled his eyes at that, and Jo blushed, it was embarrassing but he was always eating, it would be damn near impossible for Jo to not eat enough and everyone knew it. And yeah, sure, it might be because of the insomnia, but Maki made a comment about it one night while they were playing games.
“Like the blood-shot eyes give it away, no offense man,”
“None taken,” Jo had responded, not taking his eyes off the screen. Jo didn’t like when they talked about him, it made him all squirmy, being seen like that. It was one of the things he couldn’t shake from his trainee days – being perceived – which was beyond ironic for the career path he found himself on.
“But the way he always whines about missing your cheeks, you’d think he got enough of that pulling at Taki’s.” Maki said, his hands moving seamlessly over the controller as he beat Jo with ease. Had he thought about this a lot? That it didn’t even phase him? Jo hummed in affirmative, because that was the correct way to respond, even though he didn’t quite know what it was he was supposed to be agreeing with.“You grew up, man. Y’know?” Maki wasn’t wrong. Him and Kei had met when Jo was seventeen, and now he was nineteen, that was a given. Maki had grown up too, of course, so Jo was confused.
“You’re hot. All sharp lines and sex appeal.” Jo tried not to choke on air. Maki did this a lot, saying embarrassing things that Jo could never even think about, and laughing when his ears went red, tugging on them fondly. But Maki wasn’t laughing, he was still beating Jo in the game. “He still sees you as this kid, and it’s frustrating I can’t lie.” Jo nodded, but still didn’t really know what he was agreeing with. Did Kei still see him as a child? Like, yeah he was legally an adult, but he still felt like a kid. He’d know when he was an adult because he wouldn’t feel so lost all of the time. And Jo still couldn’t shake the anxiety that hung around him like a heavy cloak. Was it bad if Kei still saw him as a child?
When Jo thought of Kei, he thought of exactly what he wanted to be when he grew up. Someone confident and sure and handsome and kind with a beautiful soul, who spoke loudly but with gentle words. The sort to press kisses into your skin that burned for hours afterwards, the sort that Jo always hoped would brand him, leaving a mark that wouldn’t fade. Jo wondered if Maki thought of Kei in the same way he did, before realising no, probably not.
Jo still didn’t know what to do with the shaking Euijoo in his arms, so he just hugged tighter until Euijoo squirmed begging to be let go. “Sorry,” Jo said sheepishly, and Euijoo just laughed, pulling him again for a final hug and trying to wipe the snot off Jo’s collar.“I should be the one apologising, I probably gave you a heart attack.” Euijoo’s voice was still heavy, weighed down by a sorrow that Jo couldn’t squeeze out of him. Jo hummed deeply. “No,” He settled on. “I was just sad to see you sad.” Euijoo stopped placating him then, stopped reasoning with himself, and went quiet. A thoughtful silence that made Jo sleepy for the first time in forever, and he rubbed his thumb against Euijoo’s clammy hand. He was hot, but he couldn’t tell whether it was from the crying or the alcohol. Euijoo looked up at him then with stark clarity. Oh, Jo realised, he wasn’t drunk.
“I want to go to bed now.” Jo was shocked by his abruptness, but pulled on Euijoo’s hand anyway to let him know that he wasn’t bothered by it.
“Do you want me to stay?” Euijoo twitched slightly under the scrutiny of Jo’s gaze. He had the same sort of problem that Jo had, the pain of being watched in ways you didn’t know how to confront, yet the stifling desire to be seen clawing at your throat. “You don’t have to overthink the answer, that's more of a me thing,” Jo’s voice lilted slightly soft and self deprecating in the way only he could be – actually that wasn’t true, Euijoo was also good at it.
“I’m not sure you’d want to.”
“I want to.”
It was so dark in the room, with the only light filtering in through the curtain not pulled completely shut, and even then it was only city lights that lit up the streets. Jo liked sleeping in the dark, he’d always get into disagreements, never fights, with Harua about it. Harua liked the room to be illuminated in a soft, warm light, something comforting to hold you while you sleep. Jo needed absolute darkness or he’d twist in bed all night, the knowledge of being seen keeping him twitching until he would inevitably get up to deal with the problem.
In the darkness of the room, Jo’s eyes had adjusted to the light, picking out and painting Euijoo’s face as he’d remembered it, but Jo couldn’t help but notice that Euijoo looked a lot like how Jo did when he was younger.
The next day, Euijoo and Nicholas didn’t talk. Fuma and Kei didn’t seem to know what was going on, as Kei kept sending Fuma worried looks and frantic glances that everyone picked up on, because Kei had the subtlety of a cow despite all his unending grace on stage. Fuma was clearly offering Euijoo the space he seemed to plead for and excavate around himself, as no one managed to get more than two words to him, before he mysteriously disappeared to do whatever it was he kept disappearing to do.
Nicholas was a mess. He was loud, clearly overcompensating for something, desperately trying to fill the silence left around him as Euijoo avoided him like the plague. He didn’t want there to be anything wrong, and kept dragging Maki and Jo around with him, but flinched whenever they got too close. Maki sent Jo looks, mouthing ‘SOS’, but Jo didn’t have it in him to joke after last night. It just made it all more clear that Jo was not supposed to see Euijoo last night, and he didn’t know what to do with the new layer of anxiety now sitting heavily in his chest, making it hard to breathe.
Nicholas and Euijoo made up of course, but the weight never completely dissipated, despite Nicholas’ insistence that nothing was ever wrong, and that he’d been acting stupid and loud and mean when he was drunk, and that Euijoo hadn’t done anything wrong. He always made sure to catch Euijoo’s eye when he explained that, and Euijoo tried his best to avoid it. Jo hated to make assumptions, but he made one here, and apparently Fuma had also. Jo didn’t know if Fuma knew that he was gay. Jo knew that Fuma was gay, because he definitely wasn’t straight. Jo also didn’t know if Fuma knew that Jo knew that Fuma was gay, and that Jo knew that Fuma knew that Euijoo was also gay. But Jo hated making assumptions, so that last one always caused him to shiver uncomfortably. It wasn’t the craziest assumption to make though, as despite Japan criminalising gay marriage, no gay marriage didn’t mean that there were no gay people, especially in their industry, despite how much everyone wanted to pretend that there wasn’t. But, Jo had figured out quite quickly that people like Nicholas weren’t necessarily gay, and that broke people like Euijoo’s hearts. But then again, Jo thought, he didn’t want to assume.
Jo realised he’d been caught up in his head, and looked up to see Fuma and Euijoo getting ready to leave the room, calling it a night. Yuma nodded, face twisting into a cheeky smile as Euijoo and Fuma got up, “Good riddance,” he stuck his tongue out and Euijoo laughed, which made Fuma shake his head with a sort of fond exasperation. Jo liked watching his members like this. Unguarded and so raw that he almost forgets that they have what feels like the weight of the world on their shoulders, but are really just pushy producers and overeager managers. “I wanted some alone time with Jo anyways,” Yuma leered, kicking his leg out so that his toe slyly waltzed up the underside of Jo’s leg, causing him to jump and audibly gasp, which in turn ringed out a laugh from Fuma. Yuma glowed at the sound, as if it were his very own church bells. Yuma always felt pride at a laugh, he meant he was funny and not annoying or irritating or tiresome, and one from Fuma was a glowing review.
“Just remember to use protection,” Fuma hummed as he pushed Euijoo out of the door and towards their own room down the hall. Jo heard a response from Euijoo, probably something in his defence, but he couldn’t make it out over the cackling from Yuma. When Fuma closed the door behind them, it felt like the energy in the room had been flushed out, and Jo had been dunked in ice cold water that left him stark and shivering.
“Ha! You’re red!” Yuma pointed out, which had Jo reaching a hand up to his own ear, which was burning to the touch – which was ironic as he was freezing.
“No I’m not,” Jo muttered, even though he was, and reached round to grab a pillow which he launched at Yuma. It missed, landing with a thud against the wall and Yuma laughed louder, but Jo could only smile. “Okay whatever, I’m going to bed,” he pushed himself up, almost tripping over the bed as he walked towards the ensuite bathroom to wash up.
“Who said you could go first?” Yuma pouted, already in bed with his face so close to his phone that Jo could see the reflection of his twitter feed glowing in his eyes.
“Me, because I’m already here,”
“Boo, I’m older,” but Yuma had no intention of going first, he liked later showers anyway. Jo didn’t dignify this with a response, pushing open the door and confronting himself in the mirror. He looked tired, but who wouldn’t be? It was late, and he’d been up since the early hours of the morning preparing for their concert, the third in an already long tour with more dates to be announced. He turned the shower on, letting the room fog up until it was almost stifling and braced himself on the sink, staring up into the mirror. Jo was grateful for his members in ways he wasn’t articulate enough to express. Euijoo probably could, and so could Kei, but Jo always stumbled over his words just like he disorganised his thoughts – never really knowing what he was thinking or feeling until it was crawling up his throat and he was choking on it. It had gotten better with time, he’d become a lot more comfortable having feelings that weren’t necessarily comforting ones. Kei whispered to him one morning they sat down for a hotel breakfast, not one dissimilar to the one they were staying at tonight.
“Are you okay?”
It had caught Jo off guard. He was sleepy, and his mind was racing a million miles a minute, thoughts overlapping until they became a wave that drowned all attempts to come to a single conclusion about how he felt at that moment, beyond ‘okay’.
“Yeah,” Jo nodded, because he was now. Or then. Because now, all he could feel was the steam rising around him in the stuffy yet elegant bathroom ensuite, and kind of like he was going to pass out.