Work Text:
Jisung sat in their dark studio with one leg pulled to his chest. The cold air from the air-conditioner hit his body, causing him to shiver. He pulled the hood of his sweater over his head and continued to stare at the blank page in front of him. Though, it wasn't actually blank. It was filled with scribbles, crossed-out words, and mindless doodles. He couldn't figure why today was so aggravating. Usually, nine hours in studio meant at least half a song on a bad day. But, if that was a bad day, what was this?
Chan checked his phone once more, 2:00 am it read. On a normal day, this time was early for Chan, but they had an unusually early schedule the next day and he promised his youngest member that he would try and be home early.
Emphasis on try.
He reluctantly packed up his phone charger, laptop, notebook, and water bottle and made his way out of the practice room. He had initially arrived to the building to brush up on some choreo, but would he be Chan if he didn't let himself get carried away with a random fleeting thought?
As he passed by the studio room, he saw a faint line of light from below the door. He popped his curious head in to see a seemingly fragile figure curled up in the swivel chair. It couldn't be Changbin. He worked late, but he would also be conscious enough to hear the door open. None of the members would get stuck in a writing trance like this, except for his beloved first child.
"Sung-ah?"
Why the fuck can't I write? What's wrong with me? I just want people to like my music. Isn't this my-my job? Maybe I shouldn't even be here. Channie-hyung probably only took me in because he feels sorry for me. A home-schooled, friendless jerk who can't even respect his elders. Why do I act like that? Why can't I be nice? I just want friends. I just want good friends to perform with. I want them-
His train of thoughts were interrupted by a warm hand on his left shoulder. His head jerked to the side, eyes wide and a soft gasp leaving his lips.
"Hey, Jisung. I think it's about time we go home."
He saw Chan standing by him, his eyebags hanging from his squinting eyes, a faint smile on the corner of his dry, cracked, lips. His eyes trailed up and down the tired body in front of him, finally landing on his eyes.
"How long have you been here?" Chan asked, after getting no reply to his previous statement.
Jisung stayed silent, calculating for a bit.
"Uhh..like, since 5 or something. I'm not sure." the last words escaped his mouth with a shaky breath.
"Wow...why don't we go home, my love?"
'My love'? Me?
Jisung's arms flung up, wrapping themselves around Chan's core. He buried his puffy face in Chan' stomach, letting the older's warmth spread across himself. He felt his own shoulders shake as uncontrollable sobs exited him. Chan wasted no time in engulfing the younger boy in his sore arms. He stayed silent for a bit, seeing if the tears would end soon, or if these emotions had been waiting to exit his aching heart. The latter choice was correct, obviously.
"What's got you all worked up?" Chan questioned, serene and unhurried.
"Y-you." The miserable boy croaked out.
"Me?" Chan protested, offended.
"Well n-not you. It's" Jisung sniffles, wiping his face on Chan's sweatshirt "you're just so nice. And I don't know why. I'm so horrible."
Chan's hands immediately found their way to Jisung's head, pulling him back into himself. Jisung continued speaking, going on and on about how utterly disgusting he thought he was and what an angel everyone else was for caring for him. Chan wanted to fight back, but he wanted to let Jisung finish. He was preparing his response for every insult Jisung was throwing at himself. That was until he heard Jisung comment on something truly unacceptable.
"What did you just say?" Jisung's hair was brushed off his forehead.
"I...I can't even write." The younger ended, his voice gradually getting lighter.
Chan remained silent, sighing a few moments later. He was trying to fathom what could possibly make Jisung believe such utter lies.
"Who said that?" Chan said, trying to stay calm.
"N-no one said anything. I...I... did." Jisung mumbled avoiding Chan's eyes.
"You yourself know that that's not true. You are a brilliant mind. Absolutely fantastic. I'm so proud of how far you've come and how easy it is for you to create what takes me and Bin days. You're having an off-day, honey. It's simply a weird day." Chan placed his index finger below Jisung's chin, pulling his face back into his gaze "And you and I—scratch that— the whole world knows just how lovable you are. You are a sweet little thing."
He paused, looking away for a second.
"I'll admit, sometimes you do get a bit...explosive."
Jisung let out a wet laugh at the adjective.
"But," he continued "we can work on that."
We.
Jisung repeated, clutching at the fabric under his cold fingers. His face found it's way back to Chan's warm abs and took a nice, long breath.
"Sorry." he murmured.
"For what?" Chan replied with a light chuckle.
"You were about to leave. And now you're still here. Dealing with me."
Chan raked his fingers through Jisung's—surprisingly untangled— hair. He let his hand rest at the base of Jisung's head, lowering his own body to place a chaste kiss to it.
"Yeah? Well, you're my favorite problem to deal with."
They stayed like that for a while, letting the last bit of tears soak into Chan's clothes. Once Jisung's breathing slowly evened out, the pair left the studio with tired eyes and loose emotions. Their fingers stay interlocked the entire time- during the walk home, during their small meals, and during their slumber. Jisung held onto his hyung. His poor, tired, caring, loving, understanding, passionate, overworked hyung.
"It's okay, Jisung. You're doing amazing."
Jisung nuzzled his face further into Chan's chest, wanting to literally hold Chan's kind heart. He needed to be closer. Impossibly closer to the heart that made him feel enough.