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Jeongin loves his hyungs. He really does.
But sometimes he also loves his personal space.
“Did everyone get their mics on?” Chan is pacing, pulled in too many directions as he juggles two weeks of interviews mixed with daily dance practices and late-night 3racha brainstorming sessions. “We have an early day tomorrow."
It’s a lot. Jeongin understands that – feels the tiredness plaguing his hyung’s bones and stabbing his skull.
But Jeongin’s not quite sure how Chan marching him along, hands griped high on Jeongin’s shoulders, is supposed to help either of them.
The hands squeeze tighter, just barely tickling Jeongin’s current ash blonde hair. “I.N, you have yours?”
He sighs the affirmative, trying to not sound too exasperated when Chan decides to pat him down anyway. Only once he’s found the mic securely in place does he go back to pacing. Jeongin uses the moment to struggle free.
He next finds himself the victim of Changbin’s grabby hands.
“You look tied, Innie. Come sit next to Hyungie!” With a determined pout, Changbin settles Jeongin firmly in his lap. His hyung’s small, warm hands wrap around Jeongin’s tummy, and he could practically fall asleep right there.
Except for one small problem.
“Are you ready, boys?” A staff member calls from behind camera. “Filming starts in five!”
That big, black camera. It drills into Jeongin. Into where Changbin’s hands are rubbing his 21-year-old waist.
Sulking, he starts poking Changbin’s hands. “Hyung,” Jeongin says. He doesn’t whine. That would be childish. “Let go.” He shifts, and Changbin’s panda hold morphs into that of an anaconda.
“But I don’t wanna! You look so cute right here.” Changbin’s signature baby voice and puppy eyes. Jeongin resolutely looks into the camera lens. He will not be swayed.
“I’m serious, Hyung.” Jeongin won’t lie; he’s starting to get slightly desperate. They can’t have more than three minutes left before rolling, and the interviewer will be back from mic-check any minute. Speaking of people all mic-ed up. “Plus, look how lonely Seungminnie is. I’m sure he’d love some cuddles.”
Seungmin blinks incredulously, though it really isn’t that intimidating with his cheeks stuffed full of pre-show snacks. Jeongin’s suddenly hungry, probably because he hasn’t eaten in… well, he can’t remember when.
“Bring me snacks, Seungmin.” Jeongin demands. He’s only mildly surprised that Seungmin concedes, trudging over with some grapes in hand. His body isn’t surprised at all when Seungmin lifts them to his mouth, and Jeongin leans forward in earnest, lips parted, ready to be waited on hand and foot like a…
Like a little kid.
Jeongin reaches up to grab the rest of the bunch and ignores the way Seungmin’s brows furrow.
“Um, thanks.”
Then the interviewer is walking on stage, and Changbin unwraps his arms from Jeongin. His hyung’s action may be more related to Seungmin passing him some potato chips, but Jeongin will take what he can get.
That should be the end of it.
Then Hyunjin happens.
Jeongin swears it’s like his hyung has some six-sense. Some Baby Bread monitor so that whenever Hyunjin gets a little hungry for hugs, his hands are blindly entrapping Jeongin.
“Aw, where are you going? Was Changbin-hyung not cuddling you enough?” Hyunjin says half-jokingly, smirk unfairly sharp and it slices behind his long, blonde locks. His hair is pulled back in a partial ponytail. His eyes are painted with a dark liner. In fact, all of them are sporting a similar, mature look for their new concept, and each member frames out his white shirt and leather jacket better than the next.
Jeongin feels like a fraud, dressed like this yet perched in his hyung’s lap.
“Hyung. Please let go.” He mumbles. A smile is still plastered on his face, indulgent, but it’s quickly fading.
“Yeah, Hyunjin-hyung. Let go.” Felix interrupts. Jeongin could kiss the ground he walks on right then, finally saved. That is until a devilish smile spreads across Felix’s angelic face. “Besides, he obviously likes cuddling me the most!”
If Jeongin had been less tired, less hungry, maybe he would have resigned himself to Felix plopping into his lap, knees stretched out to land on an only slightly judgmental looking Minho and pink hair sticking up Jeongin’s nose.
As it stands though, he’s unamused.
He thinks some body glitter gets up his nose, because the next second, in-between choked pleas for his hyungs to let him go, he’s wheezing like a cat with asthma. Have you ever heard a cat with asthma? Jeongin has because he hacked into Minho’s YouTube account once and karma kicked his ass.
Granted, he thought it was funny at the time. Now he just feels bad for the cat and it’s viral wheezing.
Jeongin doesn’t want to be that cat.
“Innie, are you okay?” Hyunjin asks, voice laced with concern. When Jeongin wheezes again, he shoots an accusatory look at Felix. “You! You’re murdering him. Get your heavy butt off my baby!”
“Me?” Felix shouts back, incredulous. Apparently, he feels the need to accentuate his offense with movement because his right elbow lands somewhere by Jeongin’s spleen. “I’m as light as a feather. Changbin-hyung probably cracked one of his ribs earlier with that hug.”
A potato chip goes flying. Jeongin thinks it’s supposed to hit Felix, which he does appreciate. Instead, it bounces off Jeongin’s already unsalvageable hair.
At this point, he isn’t above pleading. “Guys. Can we please just—”
“Now look what you’ve done! He probably has blunt force head trauma on top of his lung cancer from choking!” Hyunjin screams.
Changbin’s about to passionately retort, with the way his face is red and scrunched. Seungmin barely holds him back, but he also looks like he’s holding back tears, those long lips tugging up. Before either can make a move, however, Jisung is at Jeongin’s side, yanking him away from Hyunjin and inadvertently flopping Felix to the floor.
“Did someone say choking?” He asks heroically.
Jeongin shoots Minho a glance, who just shrugs his shoulders and says: “He was sleeping until a few seconds ago.”
Ah, that makes sense. That’s why Jisung’s hand is lifting high into the air.
“I know CPR.” Jisung grits out.
“Please don’t.” Jeongin replies, smiling tightly. His voice wavers in dread, right before the hand slams down and sends lightning up his back. It’s not enough to bruise, just a playful slap, but Jeongin’s body is already sore.
A slap to the camels back. That’s how the saying goes, isn’t it? Be it another one of Jisung’s playful hits, or the way Felix has now wrapped himself around Jeongin’s leg like a koala, or how Changbin keeps trying to defend himself by spewing out how much he loves their “Baby Bread” … it’s all too much. Too loud.
A part of him wants to scream. Another part wants to hide under the covers. The feelings leave Jeongin trembling in Hyunjin’s hold, and it’s embarrassing. It’s so fucking embarrassing.
“And we’re rolling in three…”
Jeongin blinks, wide eyes taking in the camera crew. Chan is seated next to the interviewer, all smiles even though he looks as exasperated as ever, with tight shoulders and clenched fists.
He’s on edge. Of course, he’s on edge. Their acting like idiots in front of four… no five cameras, a dozen crew members, and the knowledge that this is being taped live.
Everyone his age. All his classmates and neighbors. Eyes glued to him perched on the lap of a guy one year older than himself.
They’re his family. And they’re also the people making him feel like laughingstock right now.
It’s not fair.
It’s not fair, how Hyunjin’s arms cradle him even closer, sharp chin hooked over Jeongin’s shoulder as he whispers gently, “Breathe, baby. I got you.” The light kiss he presses into Jeongin’s head sends warmth down his spine.
It’s not fair how his Hyung realized he was spiraling into panic before Jeongin himself did, or how throughout the interview Felix subtly massages his calf while Minho traces delicate patterns over his right knuckles.
It’s nice. Soft to his weary bones. But if his hyungs see it, and Jeongin feels it, then so do the thousands of fans on the other end of that camera.
*****
The interview goes about as smoothly as he suspects. Chan, the perfect leader that he is, answers every question with thoughtful remarks and clear English. Jeongin could stare at him in awe all day if it weren’t for Hyunjin’s hands tracing his stomach, or Jisung’s new habit of fidgeting with Jeongin’s earlobe.
It makes his skin burn, those big camera lenses. Like all five cameras are drilling into him, cementing his fate for the whole world to see.
He’s pathetic.
When the interview finally ends centuries later, he smiles, bows from his still-entrapped position. Then the crew is shuffling out and Jeongin is on his feet, all nerves and adrenaline.
“Hey!” Felix grumbles. Jeongin ignores him. If he didn’t want to be stepped on, he should have let go of Jeongin’s leg.
It’s a mean thought, but it feels so justified. He has a right to be angry.
Still, he plans to leave, cool off, shove some food down his throat even if the idea of eating now makes his stomach roll, when Hyunjin grabs his wrist.
Jeongin doesn’t mean to flinch back as hard as he does. He doesn’t mean for his tone to come out as a near growl. “Don’t touch me, Hyunjin.”
Hyunjin’s concerned smile falters, and Changbin is at his side in an instant.
“Now, now. Let’s calm down, children.” He coos, but his smile is tight. “What’s wrong, Baby Bread?”
That nickname. That stupid nickname. Jeongin bites his lip so hard he thinks it might bleed. “Shut up.”
His members shoot each other concerned looks, and it infuriates Jeongin even more.
Hyunjin steps forward, brows creased. “Innie, can you tell Hyungie what’s wrong?” He soothes. “Was it something the interviewer said? Have you been eating enough?”
“I can take care of myself.” Jeongin seethes back. His fists tremble. “It’s all of you who are the problem.”
“Careful, I.N.” He turns to find Seungmin, his arms crossed and nose upturned, though concern reflects in his own chocolate, puppy-dog eyes.
Seungmin is less than 8 months older than Jeongin.
He scoffs. “What do you know? Stop acting all self-important, Seungmin. Or should I call you Hyung more often?”
“Maybe, if you’re gonna keep acting like a brat.”
A brat. A baby. Jeongin isn’t thinking when he steps forward. Before he reaches Seungmin, however, someone else’s hands are on him. Clutching him. Holding him back. Cradling him.
“Would you stop fucking touching me!” The scream reverberates off the walls. So does the sound of his hand slapping Hyunjin’s chest. Hyunjin, who now blinks owlishly up at Jeongin from where he’s staggered to the floor.
Regret bubbles in Jeongin’s chest, but he’s too tried and tired. Too embarrassed from interview after interview. It’s like his body has a mind of its own, and now that he’s started, he can’t stop.
He points sharply at Hyunjin. “And you! You’re the worst! Always touching me, cuddling me. I’m not some baby to be coddled. I’m an adult, and the way you all constantly grab me like your life depends on it…” The words leave his mouth along with a bit of spit. “It’s pathetic.”
Later, Jeongin would regret those words, but right now his brain is too high on adrenaline to care. He trembles, panting, poised for angry remarks to be thrown his way. He’s ready for a fight. To tear his hyungs apart along with his own burning lungs.
He’s met with Hyunjin’s sniffles and seven sets of betrayed eyes.
When Chan eventually speaks, it’s in a tone Jeongin’s never heard before. It’s not angry. It’s not sad. It’s… nothing. “I see. I had no idea you were feeling this way, Jeongin. I’ll keep that in mind for the future.” He says formally, the perfect picture of mature, with his head held high and his hands clasped.
Jeongin finds himself shrinking.
Jeongin. They never use his first name unless they’re joking or scary serious. He’s guessing it’s the second.
He shakes off the shock. Well good. They’ll take him seriously now. Stop babying him all the time.
“Fine.”
“Wait!” Seungmin calls. “Hyung, aren’t you going to make I.N apologize? What he said to Hyunjin—” He gestures to where the rest of the members are surrounding Hyunjin on the floor, checking for any injuries.
Chan raises his hand to silence Seungmin. His eyes slide over, making Jeongin shiver. “Jeongin is an adult.” He copies. If it were anyone else, Jeongin would think they’re making fun of him, but Chan is deadly serious. “I can’t make him do anything.”
Then their leader walks over to Hyunjin and his face melts into a caring expression. As he helps Hyunjin to his feet, he continues. “It’s getting late, and we have an early morning photoshoot tomorrow. Let’s get some sleep.” Chan glances over his shoulder at Jeongin, expression hardening. “Though some of us still have energy left. Do you want to go back to the dorm, Jeongin, or should the manager drop you off at the gym?”
Seemingly, he’s letting Jeongin decide, but they both know there’s only one right answer.
They’re giving him space. Good. He doesn’t want to be in the car with all they’re sniffles and glares anyway. Jeongin is the only one with a right to be upset.
That’s why he agrees to go to the gym without hesitation, even as his exhausted body begs otherwise. Finally, some much needed alone time.
*****
Working out at the gym until 4am may not have been Jeongin’s best idea to date. He didn’t intend to stay that long, but the thing about being completely alone is that the only thing to do is think.
But really, what was there to think about? His hyungs were touching him – he asked them to stop – they didn’t. He’s a young adult whose lived a life with practically no privacy and very little personal space, so is it so strange that when he finally has the freedom to spread out, he prefers to not be suffocated on live television?
No, he resolutely decides. It’s not.
Seungmin is just stupid; he doesn’t have to deal with his cheeks getting pulled and his big, round glasses being poked.
And Changbin is just lucky. He only gets treated like a baby when he purposefully acts like one. He asks for it, and he gets it. Jeongin never has a choice.
And Hyunjin. Hyunjin just overreacted. He’s such a drama queen sometimes. Jeongin barely touched him, and all the members act like he ran over a puppy or something. He can’t even drive!
Jeongin shakes his head. That’s not the point. The point is that he did absolutely nothing wrong, and the memory of tears swelling in Hyunjin’s eyes isn’t going to change that fact.
Long story short, Jeongin tends to get lost in his own head, meaning that by the time he called their manager, the rest of his members were getting ready for the photoshoot.
He groggily enters the studio to find his hyungs already in makeup. Suppressing a yawn, he plops down in a chair next to Felix.
“’Morin’ Lix-hyung.” He mumbles. He tips his head back, waiting for his hyung’s skillful neck massage. He feels awful, and nothing helps him relax like masseuse Felix in action.
When no pressure comes, he blinks his eyes open with a whine, only to find the chair next to him empty.
Weird.
“Are you ready, I.N?”
Jeongin startles at the woman’s voice. Composing himself, he sends a sheepish smile to their make-up noona. “Ah, yes. Thanks.”
It’s when a makeup brush touches his face that Felix finally talks, somewhere in a corner huddled next to Seungmin. “That Noona better be careful.” Felix says conspiratorially, though his voice slices sharply through the air. “If she keeps touching Jeongin, he might slap her.”
Jeongin’s jaw jumps. The makeup noona, bless her soul, keeps working, unmoved. “We’re going for an edgy look, heavy on dark colors with some Victorian inspiration.” She explains. “You have very round features, so I’m going to shape your jaw and play into your ‘fox eyes’. By straightening your hair, we’ll further get a more mature look, rather than your natural cute one.”
Jeongin hums, excited to see the final result. Apparently, Seungmin has to ruin the moment.
“Oh no.” He theatrically gasps. “How dare she call him cute! So rude.” He clicks his tongue, appalled, and the gloss running over Jeongin’s lips is the only thing keeping him quiet.
Felix hums in accordance. “Plus, who could find someone so mean cute?”
Mean? Jeongin swallows thickly. They were the ones being mean. Being childish. Jeongin did nothing wrong.
“All done!” The noona laughs forcefully. “And some of my finest work. Now go get changed, your hyungs have already started their individual shots.”
With a bow, he shuffles over to wardrobe. Lying out for him is a white collared shirt and black leather jeans to be paired with a black blazer, several silver chains, and some silver and black earrings and rings. It’s modern, but the large jewelry adds a hint of royalty to the outfit.
Dressing himself, Jeongin agrees. He looks good. The blazer widens his shoulders and squeezes his biceps, and the jeans shape the muscles on his thighs. He feels strong. Grown up.
He steps onto set with a smile.
The looks his hyungs give him – or lack there off – are anything but happy.
Jeongin wonders what their problem is. He hasn’t done anything wrong.
And then he sees Hyunjin’s open chemise, and a faint purple bruise forming on his collar bone. Jeongin’s stomach roles. Before he can think of the proper thing to do, he’s being called on set.
The members part for him like the Red Sea, and Jeongin’s skin burns red hot.
“Okay boys!” The photographer beckons. “For the first set, please move to the camelback sofa. I might do some adjusting but sit or stand wherever feels most natural for now. Just vibe.” He claps his hands, and Jeongin makes a beeline for the couch.
His legs are still weary, and any more time he can get sitting he’ll take. He moves next to Jisung, about to sit.
“This spot is taken.” His hyung says, not even casting him a glance.
Jeongin stares at the open space. “W-what—” He stammers, and then it really is taken by Minho, who drapes himself over as much of the couch as possible.
Frustrated, Jeongin scans the area between Jisung’s legs. The floor wouldn’t be as comfortable as the sofa, but it was better than nothing. The only problem is that Hyunjin is leaning on Jisung’s right thigh, and Jeongin’s not sure if he’s allowed to sit there.
Not because he did anything wrong per say but…
When he blinks again, all spots on the couch are taken. He peeks over at Chan, who’s flanking Hyunjin.
“Um, Hyung, where should I be?”
Chan’s the first one to look him in the eye today. He looks impossibly more tired, even under all the makeup. “Where do you want to be, Jeongin?” He asks flatly.
The photographer answers with a contemplative hum before Jeongin can. “Okay darlings. I’m loving the balance right now with you four on the couch and the other three between the legs. Beautiful. Let’s have you stand, I.N., in the back, off center between Han and Changbin.”
Nodding obediently, Jeongin shuffles to the back.
“Ah, yes, perfect! Okay, now lean into each other. Yes! Lee Know, keep your hand on Felix’s nape – just like that! Jeongin, don’t be a stranger!”
The photographer’s order has Jeongin snapping up right, and he quickly leans in, draping either hand on Jisung’s and Changbin’s shoulders, while he tilts his head near Changbin.
He feels his two hyungs stiffen beneath him.
“Wrong!” The photographer calls, suddenly right up in his face. Hands are on him, guiding him even closer into Changbin. “Honey, you have to mean it. And Changbin, sweetheart, where did that gorgeous smile go?”
Changbin chuckles, and his broad smile is back. “Sorry! Just some nerves.”
Jeongin knows it’s a lie. He knows because he’s standing between Jisung and Changbin, who are some of the brightest people Jeongin’s ever met.
It’s there, as he leans farther into Changbin and the rapper chooses to lean away, that he realizes something’s gone horribly wrong.
Jeongin wanted some space. He wanted to be able to walk into an interview or a TV show without being swarmed by his seven hyungs. He wanted to feel like an adult, and not some pathetic little kid.
And now, after hundreds of times giggling in exasperation for them to stop, just for his pleas to fall on deaf ears, they’re finally listening all too well.
The rest of the shoot drags on the same, with their photographer telling him to smile more. To loosen up. To stop staring off into space.
In Jeongin’s defense, that third accusation is inaccurate. He’s staring at Hyunjin.
In the end, the shoot takes an hour longer than anticipated.
“Okay, guys. Good work.” Chan sighs. Felix wiggles himself into a hug. Chin resting on Chan’s chest, he looks up.
“I know we’re running behind, Hyung. We can push off lunch. Have a big dinner.”
The other members nod along, including Jeongin, even if his stomach pleas otherwise.
Chan’s lips twitch up. It’s amazing. He’s only 24 and yet he carries so much weight on his shoulders. Jeongin isn’t envious, but it’s a reminder of how little he helps the group out.
“Thanks for the offer, Lixie, but we all know that’s a terrible idea. You all get lunch. I can catch up after I grab some important documents from a producer stopping by.”
There’s a round of protests.
“I can do it, Hyung.” Jeongin quickly offers. It’s not a big deal, and yet every member’s eyes turn to him. Maybe Jeongin’s just paranoid, but their looks are a mix between skeptical and anxious. Do they really think he’s that incapable? Or do they just want to see him gone that badly?
Jeongin crosses his arms and tries to quash a pout. “Seriously, I can. I can help out once in a while too, you know.”
Chan furrows his brows, which won’t do.
“Hyung, come on. You’re turning into an even older man while we wait.” He jokes. Usually, Chan would throw back an insult and ruffle Jeongin’s hair. Now, he just sighs.
“I appreciate that, Jeongin.” He begins. “But if you need some space, you can just say so.”
Chan says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like they’ll listen to his every word and come at his beck and call – which to be fair, his hyungs usually do. But not for this.
Jeongin rolls his eyes. “I have. A lot, actually.”
When the room ebbs into silence again, Jeongin realizes he’s messed up, tone edging back to annoyance. Quickly, he grasps for straws.
“Anyway! You’re right! I do want some ‘me time’.” Jeongin chuckles nervously, evading his members’ gazes. After vehemently avoiding him for the last few hours, why do they have to look at him now? “Plus, I’m not hungry and you need your nutrients. So, I’ll wait.” As he speaks, he grabs his phone and his bag. Then he’s shoving his headphones on.
Chan should just try arguing now. But he doesn’t. He just sends Jeongin an unreadable look, brows furrowed and lips parted. Hyunjin steps up to gently rub out Chan’s worry lines, then he’s grabbing their Hyung’s hand and sending Jeongin a small smile.
“Innie needs some space, Hyung. Let’s go.”
As his members walk out the door, Jeongin realizes two things.
One: that was the first time someone’s called him by his stage name – his preferred name with his members – since yesterday’s incident.
And two: he’s an asshole.
Those realizations carry him through the rest of the day, until he’s lying wide awake at 1am. It’s at times like these that he’s thankful they moved to new dorms with single rooms. Now he can freak-out all by himself.
Usually though, he doesn’t have too. Whether its him and Seungmin playing their Switch, or Felix scrolling through his phone while draped across Jeongin’s bed, or Minho coming in to check on him when he notices a light is still on, someone is always there.
There’s four fewer members living in their dorm now, yet it always seems just as full. Jeongin offhandedly wonders if one reason Hyunjin is so clingy is because he lives in a separate dorm from Jeongin now, but that thought just makes him feel like even more of an asshole, so he pushes it down.
It only allows other memories to surface.
“What do you know? Stop acting all self-important, Seungmin.
“Would you stop fucking touching me!”
“It’s pathetic.”
The most pressing matter is how Jeongin’s going to apologize. Not for everything. His feelings were – are – valid. He just may not have communicated them in the best way…
Hyunjin’s tear-filled eyes plague his thoughts, and he turns over to groan into his pillow. Unseeingly, he stares at his clock.
It had been two days now – day three if you include the day of the incident – as Jeongin has decided to discretely refer to it. If he doesn’t apologize soon, it’s going to be too late. Yet, at the same time he feels like he doesn’t any right to approach Hyunjin.
And even if he did, someone is always at the rapper’s side – like his hyungs found time to form some Hyunjin protection squad that Jeongin isn’t in on.
It’s annoying.
After all, if Hyunjin hadn’t reached for Jeongin so suddenly…
Jeongin lifts his face from where he’s buried it in his pillow. 2:30am.
He needs sleep, that’s all. Then he can come up with a brilliant plan to make his hyungs stop hating him.
It’s not a great plan though, because when his alarm goes off at 5:30am, Jeongin hasn’t slept a wink. It’s strange, how his brain can churn a hundred ideas, buzzing with anxiety, and yet not actually process a single thought.
Wearily, he pads into the kitchen. The refrigerator door is painfully heavy, and he wonders if he waits long enough one of his hyungs will open the milk jug. Sucking in a breath, he fumbles with it.
It’s sad how pride wells up inside of him when he only spills a fourth of the milk he’s trying to pour into his cereal bowl.
Jeongin stares at the puddle on the counter, searching for some metaphor for life.
Yep, he’s already dreading their dance practice.
“Oh, you’re awake.”
Jeongin jumps at Felix’s rough morning voice. Never mind. Half his milk. Jeongin’s spilled half the milk he was trying to get in his bowl.
Which should cue something in his hyung. Perhaps a deep, rumbling laugh and a hand petting Jeongin’s hair. Or maybe even a soft kiss to his temple before Felix offers to make him breakfast… or at least attempts to.
Instead, Jeongin finds himself on the opposite end of a tired, judgmental stare. He clears his sore throat and pushes up his glasses before they slip off the bridge of his nose.
“G-good morning, Hyung.” He stutters, searching for the right thing to say. “Um, how was lunch yesterday?” He’s genuinely curious. By the time their producer arrived with the files, it was too late for Jeongin to scavenge for food. Since then, the silent treatment has continued.
Rather than walking up next to Jeongin to open the fridge, Felix takes the long way around the counter.
“Delicious. It’s nice to be able to feed your hyungs food and not have to wonder if they secretly hate you for it.” He says with those pretty little lips. If Felix is trying to make him feel like utter shit, which Jeongin is pretty sure he is, it’s working.
But hate… Jeongin wouldn’t… he loves when his hyungs let him eat first, or when they give him the biggest pieces of meat because he’s…
A hypocrite. He’s a fucking hypocrite.
“Hyung.” He starts, wetting his lips. “What I said… I—”
Felix raises a hand, effectively silencing him. His eyes droop as he speaks. “I heard you loud and clear the first time, Jeongin. You don’t need to tell me again.”
Jeongin might cry. He wants to say more, knows he should argue back, but what right does he have? He hurt his hyungs.
Yes, he’s told them to stop a million times before, with joking smiles and crinkled eyes, but how many of those times has he actually meant it? Because if Felix dragged him into a hug right now, regardless of his instinct to swat the other away, Jeongin wouldn’t want Felix to let go.
Minho and Seungmin enter the kitchen, fully dressed, and Jeongin realizes he’s the only one still in pajamas.
“We have an early morning, Jeongin.” Minho says.
It’s his turn to not be able to look them in the eyes. “Yes, Hyung.”
“So, why aren’t you dressed?”
Because you never got me up, is the playful excuse on Jeongin’s tongue, which might work if he hadn’t been awake the whole night. Or if his hyung was planning to wake him up at all – which seems doubtful.
“Sorry, Hyung.” He mumbles, pushing the untouched bowl of cereal away. He steps around Felix in a wide circle, head cast low.
“Jeongin.” Minho calls when he’s nearly out of the room. Jeongin freezes in his tracks and peers back.
“Yes, Hyung?” He asks, hoping his tone doesn’t give away the dread swirling in his stomach.
His hyung just stares, eyes racking over Jeongin’s body and lips pursed. Then he hums cryptically and waves his hand. “Nothing. We’re leaving in fifteen.”
Jeongin nods his head and tunes out whatever Seungmin begins to say.
*****
It’s their third run-through of Insomnia, a fan classic for their comeback and Jeongin’s current personal anthem. He’s done the dance a million times before, but it’s never felt this tiring, especially with both real-life Chan and in-his-head Chan reprimanding him.
In-his-head Chan says he should have eaten breakfast, to which Jeongin argues that he had plenty for dinner last night.
Jeongin doesn’t dare argue with real-life Chan.
“You’ve missed the step twice, Jeongin. You have to come in on the third beat, not the fourth.”
“Yes, Hyung.” Jeongin nods meekly. That usually would receive him a pat on the shoulder.
Chan’s about to step away, chorus at the ready, but it seems like their instructor isn’t done.
“I.N, don’t just agree if you don’t understand what your leader is saying.” The instructor groans, hands rubbing his temples. He’s a tall man, over six feet, with a deep voice and a permanent frown line.
Jeongin cocks his head to the side.
“Everyone, step back. I.N, you’re going to run this until you get it right.”
Nervousness bubbles in his belly, but he quickly pushes it down as the chorus starts. Look right. Cross legs. Hand up. He turns left and right, ignoring the lingering dizziness after the 360 turn, but the drop down after that is so quick that he slips up on the next turn.
“Stop the music!” Their instructor shouts. “I.N, you’ve done this before. Focus. Again.”
And just like that, the chorus is playing, and Jeongin is missing the beat. The dizziness is only getting worse, and their instructor yapping in his face doesn’t help.
“I.N, you have to take this seriously. Your hyungs are working so hard, and you’re embarrassing them.”
The words stab his heart like a knife to the chest. They were the ones embarrassing Jeongin, but oh how the tables have turned.
He needs to sit down. To just close his eyes and blink the sweat out of them.
A cold hand on his too-hot back has Jeongin jumping.
“That’s enough.” Chan says, tone as cool as his palm. “You have no right to talk to I.N like that, with all due respect, sir.”
Jisung pops up on Jeongin’s other side, adding: “He means that last part very sarcastically.”
Their instructor crosses his arms. “I’m telling him what he needs to hear. But if I.N wants me to stop, he can be a man and tell me.” With a raised brow, he leans into Jeongin’s personal space, and with every inch forward Jeongin shrinks farther into Chan’s side.
Be a man. Jeongin can do that. He can prove to his hyungs that he doesn’t need to be taken care of, even if Chan’s strong side feels good. Safe.
“Um… I’m sorry, sir. I’ll try harder.” It sounds more like a question than a statement. It also isn’t technically what he was trying to say, but it gets the man to back off and call for a five-minute break, so he’ll count that as a win.
His adrenaline subsiding, Jeongin’s headache comes back full force, along with sharp stomach cramps. He takes a step back to breathe again, only for one foot to trip on the other. He would have hit the dance floor if not for Hyunjin’s steadying hands.
“Innie!” He calls worriedly, hands roaming Jeongin’s face. It’s so unfair. How can he still care? “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Are you sick?”
Jeongin would answer if he didn’t feel like he was going to puke. Luckily, Changbin’s hands massaging Jeongin’s nape provide a much-needed distraction from the pounding in his head.
“Jeongin?” Changbin whispers gently.
Jeongin could cry. Changbin is supposed to call him Baby Bread.
Partially frustrated with himself and partially out of fear of vomiting all over Hyunjin, he gently pushes their hands away and steps back from the group. “Leave me alone.”
Their dance instructor was right. He is embarrassing. He’s so embarrassed.
It’s not like Jeongin enjoys causing himself pain and drama due to terrible communication skills. He’s just really good at it.
“I’m fine, H-hyung.” His voice breaks in a terribly not-fine sounding way.
Minho, the ever-helpful hyung he is, raises an eyebrow. “He also didn’t eat breakfast this morning.” Then he pursues his lips and mumbles, “Though that may have been partially my fault.”
Felix crosses his arms. “From the way it sounded, he didn’t eat lunch yesterday either.”
Their statements really shouldn’t surprise Jeongin, because his hyungs have always been painfully, borderline stalker observant when it comes to Jeongin’s well-being. Still, his heart twists.
“Is that true?” Chan asks, tone stern.
Jeongin could argue, but he really wants a nap. Cuddles would be nice too, but he doesn’t have the right to ask for that.
“Um… yeah. But it wasn’t on purpose, I swear! I just… um… had a lot on my mind.”
The room falls silent, and the next think Jeongin knows, he’s blinking owlishly at Seungmin, the other’s hand on his forehead.
“He doesn’t feel warm.” Seungmin comments. Jeongin watches his hand, and Seungmin follows his gaze. As if shocked by lightning, he yanks his hand back and frowns “So like, how are you feeling?”
“Fine.” He repeats.
Seungmin apparently doesn’t like that answer, throwing a glare over his upturned nose.
Jeongin gulps. “Tired. Hungry. The same as all of you.” He waves nonchalantly. He really wishes they would stop looking at him when all he can think about is apologizing. It’s very awkward.
“None of us are on the brink of passing out.” Felix sagely observes.
Jeongin sticks out his bottom lips. “I’m not! —I just lost my balance is all!”
“Yeah, because you are on the brink of passing out.”
“Am not!” To prove his point, Jeongin breaks into a set of jumping jacks. “See!” He challenges. Then stops abruptly to put a hand over his mouth before he can dry-heave.
He isn’t expecting Chan to laugh.
“Yeah, no. You’re done for the day, I.N. I’m calling our manager to pick you up.”
Jeongin’s about to protest, but Chan mutes him with the shake of his head. “You look exhausted, Innie. Now pack. I want you well rested because you know we’re talking tonight. About everything.”
The dread, bile, headache, anxiety. It’s all back with a quick vengeance.
Chan cocks his head, a grin pulling at the corner of his lips – being the evil mastermind he is. “Or we could talk about it now.”
Jeongin shakes his head, promptly groans, and stalks out of the room, leaving seven sets of worried gazes in his wake.
*****
No matter how much Jeongin needs sleep, it doesn’t come quickly, or last for long.
Around 6pm, he forces himself to eat a bit of rice – if only for in-his-head Chan’s sake – then journeys to the dance studio. While his Insomnia routine is usually pretty solid, he has a lot of other numbers to perfect.
A small part of him also views it as a way to avoid his hyungs, even for just another day.
He doesn’t have the first clue what he’s supposed to say, no matter how many times he practices.
Eventually, the clock strikes 11pm, and he knows it’s time to wrap things up. So, with shaky steps and a plea to the universe, he enters his hopefully dark dorm.
It isn’t dark. Nor is it empty by the sounds of Mario Kart in the living room. Maybe he can climb through the window to get to his bed? Or sleep in the nearby park?
Jeongin quickly shakes the thought away – or at least stores it in the back of his mind. It’s a stupid, childish idea, and Jeongin is an adult. He can talk about his problems. Easy.
As he slinks in, the seven sets of eyes that stalk his every move quickly crack his resolve.
“Jeongin! Where have you been?” Changbin shrieks sternly. “We called you like a billion times.”
Jeongin pulls his phone out and stares at the black screen. “Oh. It’s dead.”
Changbin shrieks some more, running forward to yank Jeongin into a hug. “What if you were kidnapped? Your organs sold on the black market?”
Jeongin blinks. “Um, that would be bad.” He answers, a question to his tone. Changbin looks unimpressed and swivels him left and right in a frenzy.
“Hyung.” He placates dizzily. He’s too confused to process more of this conversation anyway. “I was just at the studio.”
The swiveling stops, leaving Jeongin in the perfect position to watch Chan’s frown grow.
“Why?” Their leader asks.
Jeongin scratches the back of his head. “Well, I missed the practice today. I thought it would be best to catch up alone.”
Jeongin isn’t sure if ‘alone’ is some sort of trigger word now, or if Changbin just decided it was a great time to spaz backwards, but the intentional lack of contact causes the air in the room to thin.
He clears his throat, unable to meet his hyungs’ eyes. “Well, probably not my best idea.” He hesitantly steps back. “I’m actually super tired, so I’m just gonna—”
“Innie?”
In all their time together, Jeongin doesn’t think he’s ever heard Hyunjin’s voice sound so fragile. So close to shattering into a million pieces, and Jeongin’s holding the baseball bat.
It breaks his own heart, the fear and exhaustion clawing up his throat as an ugly sob. It jolts out, and while he tries to cover it up with a palm to his lips, it doesn’t stop. Sob after sob, racking his body.
He wants to hug his hyungs. He settles on hugging himself.
Jeongin stays like that, swaying slightly back and forth, until he can catch his breath.
“I’m sorry.”
Rubbing away the tears blurring his vision, he levels his gaze with Hyunjin. “I’m s-so sorry.” Jeongin repeats more forcefully. That’s about as far as his confidence goes. He never planned past that.
“Um, I mean. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I never meant to hurt you, Hyung.” He looks around the room. “Any of you. The things that I said… Seungminnie… Changbin-hyung… you guys aren’t pathetic. I’m the pathetic one.”
Hyunjin tilts his head, his eyes creased gently. “You were hurting too, weren’t you, Innie?”
Jeongin doesn’t get it. Frustrated, he scrubs more tears away.
“’S ‘upid.”
Minho frowns. “What, I.N. We couldn’t—”
“It’s stupid!” He screams, face flaming up. “Okay? I just want some space, like I love you guys, but do we have to fuse to each other’s literal bodies every time we have an interview? You guys keep babying me on camera and it’s…” He sucks in a breath. “it’s embarrassing.”
He thinks they’ll get angry at his outburst, but instead Hyunjin opens his arms wide. With apprehensive steps, he shuffles forward. When his hyung smiles, he collapses into Hyunjin’s lap.
“So, this is embarrassing?” Hyunjin asks, voice twinkling.
Jeongin smushes his face into the other’s chest. “Yeah.”
Hyunjin hums, continuing. “And you don’t like it when we smother you, or call you our Baby Bread?”
Jeongin whines, missing the nickname.
The couch shifts, Felix’s hands creeping up. “Or give you massages? Or pat you on the head when you do a good job?”
Grumbling, Jeongin swats at the air near where Felix’s hand twirls his hair, but he doesn’t push the other away.
“Stop.” Jeongin whines. “Just not on TV. And when we’re eating you don’t always need to give me your food.” He shifts in Hyunjin’s lap, grinning softly when the elder grunts in pain, until he’s facing Chan.
“And hyungs, I want to help out more. I feel like I don’t do anything for the group. Like I’m just some kid. Like I just…” He gestures to himself with the flop of his hands, “exist.”
“But Innie,” Jisung pouts. “Your existence is my favorite part about you. Whenever I get stressed or tired, your cute little cheeks are always there to cheer me up and calm me down.” As he speaks, Jisung reaches for said ‘cute little cheeks’, but Jeongin stabs an accusatory finger before he makes it all the way.
“See. Exhibit A. This is the problem.”
Jisung tilts his head. “That you’re so cute? Yes, that is a problem.”
“Hyung, that’s not…” Jeongin begins, but then his brain catches up to what Jisung just said. He narrows his eyes, examining the rapper. “Is what you said true? That I… I calm you down?” He blinks, poking his own cheek in confusion. “Is that why you always cling to me in crowds?”
A soft blush rises on Jisung’s cheeks, but he nods in confirmation.
Huh.
“Well great, now I feel like even more of an asshole.”
That earns him a gentle bump to the back of the head and a clicking sound from Changbin. “First, language. Second, you still felt like that for a reason. Why didn’t you mention this before?”
The other members nod, looking just as confused. A few days ago, Jeongin would have found it annoying, but now that they’re openly talking, it’s just funny.
Jeongin snorts. “You’re joking, right? I tell you guys to stop all the time.”
Seungmin blinks. “I thought you always ran away from our hugs because you liked being chased.” He works out each word carefully. With those puppy-dog eyes and a thoughtful pout, Jeongin almost falls to the floor in laughter. He can’t deny it though.
“Y-yeah, I do. It’s funny to watch you guys whine and pout for my hugs. Makes them more of a hot commodity.” He laughs again, and Hyunjin slaps him on the shoulder.
“Oh, so you’re trying to increase your value? But you’re already worth so much to us, sweetie.”
Jeongin stamps down a blush. He moves his pointed finger from Jisung to Hyunjin. “See? Exhibit B! You guys say stuff like that all the time on camera. My friends watch that, you know?”
For the first time, Chan rises from his seat, making his way to kneel in front of Jeongin. “So, it’s the cameras that are the problem?”
“Yeah.” Jeongin mumbles.
Chan coos, reaching up to cradle his cheek.
“Stop!” He whines when Chan pinches down, ever so delicately.
To Jeongin’s surprise, Chan does.
He waits patiently, but his eyes are twinkling in a way that has Jeongin knowing he should stop while he’s ahead. Or at least somewhat functioning.
But he’s really missed his hyungs’ touches, which is why he mumbles. “I didn’t mean ‘stop’.”
Chan grins, hand still hovering. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t quite hear you.”
The glare Jeongin levels his leader with has Changbin cooing. “Aw, look at our sly little fox.”
Jeongin whines again but leans into the touch. Changbin combing through his hair. Hyunjin encircling his waist. Felix holding his hand. Jisung holding the other. Minho tapping Jeongin’s leg with his foot. Chan’s hand returned to his cheek.
Seungmin steps back, however, biting his lip. “I’m… I’m sorry we said those mean things about you, Innie. Felix and I were being childish.” At that, Felix squeezes his hand tighter.
At the reminder, Jeongin lowers his head. “… I know you didn’t mean it. It’s okay.”
“Is it?” Chan asks quietly. The thumb that glides over Jeongin’s cheek bone sends pleasant tingles through his body. “Are you really okay, I.N?”
He bites his bottom lip. ““Honestly… I know you guys just wanted to give me space, but what you said. The way you stopped calling my stage name. The silent treatment. All of it. I thought y-you all hated me.” His voice cracks unattractively, tears welling back into his eyes unbidden.
All his hyungs’ holds tighten while Seungmin stumbles forward to grab his knee.
Chan sniffles. “We’re so sorry, baby. Even if we were sad or angry, that doesn’t justify how we treated you. We we’re so wrapped up in ourselves that we forgot to consider how you felt.” He lowers his gaze. “Family doesn’t do that.”
“It’s okay, Hyung.” Jeongin repeats, this time meaning it. He knows his hyungs never want to see him hurt.
Still, Chan shakes his head. “It wasn’t, but thank you Innie. We’ll give you more space on camera from now on, okay? But in exchange, you gotta try to be more honest with us, whether you don’t want to be touched or you’re craving cuddles.”
“Okay, Hyung.” Jeongin says. It all sounds so easy when he puts it like that. It makes Jeongin feel like a stupid kid.
“I know it was only a few days, but you were hurting a lot, weren’t you?”
Jeongin nods sheepishly. “Couldn’t sleep.”
A round of upset noises. Hyunjin leans in, kissing the side of Jeongin’s neck. “Do you want to try again? With all of us this time?”
“I’m a great cuddler!” Felix adds playfully, trying to bring some energy back to their serious conversation.
Jeongin snorts.
“Hey! if it’s true, it’s true.”
In their little dorm, away from the peering gaze of paparazzi and the judgmental ones of his classmates, Jeongin nods. “Yeah, I would like that a lot.” He mumbles with a gummy smile.
The next thing he knows, Hyunjin is lifting him up bridal style. “To the bedroom!” He proclaims.
“Hyung! We can’t all fit on my bed!”
Seungmin and Felix share a conspiratorial glance. “Watch us,” they challenge in near-perfect unison, running off before Jeongin can finish shouting: “Don’t break my stuff!”
The other members follow with a mix of dopey smiles and big yawns, until it’s just him and Hyunjin struggling down the hallway.
“I’m really sorry, Hyung.” Jeongin whispers, trying to convey every ounce of his sincerity.
Hyunjin snorts. “For being so heavy? You should be you little Muscle Monster.”
“Muscle Monster?” He raises a brow. “I think I prefer Baby Bread or Desert Fox. Something cute, like me.” To emphasize his point, he blinks sweetly up at Hyunjin.
“You’re a menace, you know that?”
Jeongin shrugs, placing his head back into the crook of Hyunjin’s neck. With the events of the past few days, he’s about to fall asleep then and there.
“The life of the Maknae. What can I say?”
“Oh, so now you’re playing into the Maknae card?”
“Only when I want something. I have to use it selectively for maximum effect.” Jeongin jokes, though those big, black cameras still plague his mind. “Just not on camera. I’m an adult after all.”
“Not on camera,” Hyunjin agrees easily, though Jeongin is pretty sure they won’t be able to stop touching him completely. Honestly, with how badly he craved his hyungs these past few days, Jeongin will probably have his moments too.
From the way Hyunjin shifts, he can tell they’ve made it to his room.
“But Innie, I do have something to confess.” The amusement in Hyunjin’s voice has Jeongin cracking his eyes open to a terrifying sight. Somehow, in these last few minutes, the number of pillows and blankets in his room has quadrupled. Mattresses line the floor while sheets hang from his ceiling fan. There’s no floor space left, his desk has been moved, and all his perfectly arranged stuffed animals turned into a mosh pit in the middle of the floor.
His hyungs smile at him sweetly.
Hyunjin leans in again. “I.N. Even if you want to play the Maknae card selectively, you’ll always be our baby.
Jeongin slaps Hyunjin before he can plant a kiss on Jeongin’s head. “I hate you all so much.” He giggles. Then he’s scrambling out of Hyunjin’s arms and belly flopping into their pillow fort.
“See, a sly little fox.” He hears Changbin snicker. Jeongin doesn’t care if he’s right – which he is. So what? He’s busy spooning Seungmin while Felix nuzzles into his nape.
“You know what I realized? All of you are big babies too.” Jeongin grumbles to no one in particular. To think, he thought they were cool.
His hyungs laugh, but none dare deny it.
With a content sigh, Jeongin sinks further into their embrace.
He loves his hyungs.
He really does.
Even if at their next interview, it takes a shoe in Hyunjin’s mouth and an absurd amount of duct tape to get them to behave.