Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Morning sunlight seeped through the sheer curtains of Dorm 2, casting a soft glow on the wooden floor and catching on the edges of scattered socks and an empty ramen cup someone forgot to throw out. A low hum came from the hallway—someone brushing their teeth, another half-singing a random melody in the kitchen.

Jake was already awake.

He always was.

Wearing soft pajama pants and a shirt with slightly stretched-out sleeves, he stood in front of the stove, gently stirring scrambled eggs in a pan. His hair was fluffy from sleep, and there were faint pillow creases still on his cheek. He didn’t bother checking the time. He didn’t need to. His body was wired for it by now—he just knew when everyone would start waking up.

He heard a door creak open behind him.

“Morning,” came Sunoo’s voice, low and scratchy.

Jake turned, smile already blooming across his face. “Good morning, sunshine. You want toast or rice?”

Sunoo blinked at him like he was still buffering. “…Toast,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes and stumbling toward the couch.

Jungwon emerged next, hair messier than usual, hoodie drowning his frame.

“Eggs are almost done,” Jake said, like a mother reading her children’s minds before they spoke.

Jungwon gave him a half-smile. “You’re too good at this, hyung.”

Jake just shrugged. “You guys make it easy.”

The dorm was warm, alive with the kind of comfort that only came from living closely with people who knew you inside out. Jake passed out plates like a ritual, watching with fondness as Jungwon and Sunoo bickered over who left the bathroom light on all night.

Then the front door opened.

Jay stepped in without knocking—like he always did. “We ran out of soy milk downstairs. Got any?”

Jake tilted his head toward the fridge. “Middle shelf. Help yourself.”

Behind Jay came Ni-ki, hood up, still half-asleep, and Heeseung, who plopped dramatically onto the nearest chair with the grace of a dying seal.

Jake poured them both juice.

Soon, Sunghoon walked in, holding a piece of toast from his dorm, already mid-conversation with Jay about a game they played last night.

And like that, both dorms were alive in one kitchen.

Everyone was talking over each other, stepping around each other, stealing each other’s food. Ni-ki was laughing at something Jungwon said. Sunghoon was teasing Sunoo. Jay and Heeseung were arguing over the playlist for practice. Jake moved between them like air—smiling, refilling cups, pulling extra plates from the cupboard when someone unexpected showed up.

It was loud. It was chaotic.

But it was good.

Jake’s heart felt full watching them, like this was what he was meant to do—be there. He didn’t even realize he hadn’t touched his own breakfast until Sunghoon pointed it out, pushing his barely-eaten plate back toward him.

“You’re not eating?” Sunghoon asked.

Jake laughed sheepishly and sat back down. “I got distracted.”

No one questioned it. They were too busy being themselves.

Jake didn’t mind. He loved mornings like this.
The way Ni-ki would lean his head on someone’s shoulder when he was still waking up.
The way Heeseung would hum under his breath while scrolling on his phone.
The way Sunoo always thanked him twice—once before eating, once after.

These were his people. His family.

And even if his food got cold sometimes, and even if he was the last one to leave the table, Jake wouldn’t trade any of it.

Not for the world.

By early afternoon, most of the members had scattered. Some were off to schedule meetings, others sprawled across the dorms, catching up on rest or mindlessly scrolling on their phones.

Jake ended up back in his room, stretched out on the floor with Ni-ki lying upside down next to him, both of them facing the ceiling with their legs propped against the wall.

“I think my back is broken,” Ni-ki muttered.

“You’re nineteen,” Jake replied, snorting. “Your spine is probably made of rubber.”

“Still. We danced for, like, three hours yesterday.”

Jake nodded. “True. We killed that choreo though.”

There was a pause, and then Ni-ki added, “…You always hype me up, hyung.”

Jake turned his head. “What do you mean?”

Ni-ki didn’t look at him. “You just do. Even when I mess up or complain or act annoying… you still listen.”

Jake blinked, a little caught off guard. Then he smiled. “Well. That’s what hyungs are for, right?”

Ni-ki gave a little shrug. “Yeah. I guess.”

Neither of them moved for a bit, just letting the silence stretch comfortably between them. Jake let himself breathe. It wasn’t often he had this kind of quiet with Ni-ki, who was usually bouncing off the walls or wrestling someone. But right now, like this, they were just two people sharing a moment. A soft, weird one—but a real one.

Eventually, the peace was broken by a knock on the door.

“Jake-hyung,” Sunoo peeked in. “Can you help me pick an outfit for the interview tomorrow? Jay-hyung said I looked like a trainee.”

Ni-ki groaned. “You always look like a trainee.”

“Shut up,” Sunoo snapped, stepping inside fully. “Jake?”

Jake sat up with a grin. “Of course I’ll help.”

He followed Sunoo into the younger’s room, where half of his closet was already on the bed.

Sunoo flopped down dramatically. “I want to look chic but sweet, you know? Not like… desperate. But still, like… expensive.”

Jake chuckled, already thumbing through the mess. “Okay, so not desperate but still devastating. Got it.”

Sunoo smiled, bright and proud. “Exactly!”

The two of them spent the next twenty minutes trying on jackets, experimenting with accessories, and debating whether beige was a “boring color” or “an understated statement.” Jake didn’t complain once, even when Sunoo made him model a sweater just to see how it looked “on someone with broad shoulders.”

Heeseung passed by the door at one point and paused. “Are you guys starting a fashion line?”

Jake threw a rolled-up sock at him. “Jealous?”

Heeseung smirked. “A little, yeah.”

Later, Jake made his way downstairs to Dorm 1, where Jay was pacing back and forth with his phone pressed to his ear, talking rapidly in a mix of Korean and English. He didn’t even glance up when Jake entered.

Sunghoon, meanwhile, was curled up on the couch, eyes glued to the screen as a dramatic survival show blared from the TV.

Jake flopped down next to him. “Who’s winning?”

“No one,” Sunghoon muttered. “They’re all crying. Again.”

Jake leaned back. “Mood.”

Jay finally hung up and turned around, looking like he’d been fighting for his life. “That was our stylist noonas. They changed the concept again. I think I’m aging in reverse.”

Jake patted the seat next to him. “Come stress-watch this show with us.”

Jay sighed, but he joined them. Within minutes, the three of them were groaning at the same plot twists, shouting over eliminations like it was life or death, and making sarcastic commentary loud enough for Ni-ki to yell from his room to shut up already.

It was ridiculous. Loud. Messy.

Jake loved it.

That night, when the dorms finally quieted down, Jake walked through Dorm 2, checking the lights. Jungwon’s door was cracked open, and Jake paused.

“Night,” he called gently.

Jungwon looked up from his laptop. “Night, hyung.”

Jake smiled and closed the door halfway.

Back in his room, he changed into a fresh T-shirt, brushed his teeth, and crawled under the covers. He left his phone on the nightstand and stared at the ceiling for a while, listening to the faint sounds of the dorm—water running, someone’s low laugh, music playing softly through a speaker.

He closed his eyes, heart full.

Today was good.

Tomorrow would be good too.

Tomorrow came with the screech of sneakers on polished floors and the thud of bass echoing off mirrored walls.

“Five, six, seven, eight—again!”

Jay’s voice cut through the studio as he clapped in time, but only three of them were actually moving. Ni-ki was spinning too early. Sunghoon kept rolling his eyes. And Jake—Jake was somehow a beat late every time, even though he was usually the one correcting people’s timing.

Jungwon caught it instantly.

“Hyung,” he called, pausing the music. “You okay?”

Jake blinked, sweat already clinging to his temple, hair flopping into his eyes. He looked… fine. But not Jake-fine. There was a certain sluggishness to him. Not moody, not upset—just soft around the edges, like someone who hadn’t quite finished waking up.

“Yeah,” Jake nodded, smiling. “Just… head feels heavy today.”

“Didn’t you sleep early last night?” Sunoo asked, mid-stretch.

“I did,” Jake answered. “Like, before ten.”

“That’s illegal,” Jay muttered.

Sunghoon side-eyed him. “Are you okay or are you like… existentially tired?”

Jake laughed. “I think I’m just tired-tired.”

Jungwon walked over, bottle in hand, and wordlessly pressed it into Jake’s palm. Cold water. Not too cold, though—Jake didn’t like it when it stung his throat first thing in the morning.

“Thanks,” Jake murmured, smiling up at him.

Jungwon didn’t say anything. Just gave a little nod and started rolling Jake’s hoodie sleeves up for him, like a fussy mom. “You’re overheating. Sit out for a set.”

“I can do the next one,” Jake said, but his protest didn’t carry much fight.

“You can do it after a break,” Jungwon said firmly, already moving back toward the speaker. “Everyone, reset. Let’s do the second verse without Jake.”

Ni-ki smirked. “You’re letting him skip practice?”

“He doesn’t skip,” Jungwon said. “He’s on a mandatory soft break.”

Jake didn’t argue.

He plopped onto the floor, legs stretched out in front of him, sipping his water and watching the others. He kept a soft grin on his face as he watched Sunoo finally nail the turn he kept missing, or when Sunghoon caught Jay with a shoulder bump mid-transition and they nearly tripped over each other laughing.

It was chaos. Familiar, noisy, oddly choreographed chaos.

And in the middle of it all, Jake just sat there with half-lidded eyes and a peaceful kind of exhaustion.

The good kind.

The kind where you’re tired but surrounded by people who make that tiredness feel okay.

Jungwon glanced over once, mid-dance, checking on him—just a flick of his gaze.

Jake lifted his water bottle in a little salute.

He was still tired.

But somehow, this tired didn’t feel lonely.

Practice eventually ended in the usual storm of heavy breaths and collapsing bodies.

Jay was sprawled flat on his back like a corpse. Sunoo was dramatically fanning himself with a towel. Ni-ki had already disappeared to god-knows-where. Jungwon was talking with the choreographer, nodding and jotting something in his phone. Sunghoon hovered near the exit, texting in between sips of water.

Jake leaned against the wall near the bench, towel over his neck, chest rising and falling. He wasn’t out of breath, not really, but his limbs still felt like they were made of clay.

Heeseung wandered over and dropped onto the bench beside him with a dramatic sigh.

“Old age hits hard, huh?” he said, nudging Jake’s foot with his own.

Jake laughed tiredly. “You’re only a year older.”

“Yeah, but emotionally? I’m like eighty.”

Jake grinned. “That’s fair.”

They sat in easy silence for a bit, the kind that didn’t need to be filled. Heeseung leaned forward, elbows on his knees, letting his towel hang loose around his neck.

After a moment, Heeseung nudged him again—not with his foot this time, but with his shoulder.

“You good?” he asked, voice casual but with that familiar undertone of sincerity only Heeseung seemed to pull off.

Jake blinked. “Yeah. Just tired.”

“You sure?” Heeseung side-eyed him. “You’ve been ‘just tired’ since last week.”

Jake blinked slowly, then chuckled. “What, are you spying on me now?”

“I’m observant,” Heeseung said, mock-offended. “Don’t disrespect the eldest like that.”

Jake rolled his eyes, but Heeseung gave him a softer look then—less teasing.

“Seriously though. You’re always checking in on everyone else. Someone’s gotta return the favor sometimes.”

Jake glanced away, staring at the floor. “I’m alright, hyung. Really.”

Heeseung didn’t push, just nodded slowly. “Okay. But if that changes, you know where my room is.”

Jake gave him a small, genuine smile. “Thanks.”

Before Heeseung could get up, he reached over and ruffled Jake’s hair roughly—enough to make Jake squawk and swat him away.

“Your hair’s all sweaty anyway,” Heeseung said with a grin. “You needed that.”

“Rude,” Jake muttered, fixing it while laughing.

From across the room, Jungwon watched the entire exchange.

His arms were crossed loosely, body leaning against the mirrored wall. The conversation between him and the choreographer had ended a while ago, but he hadn’t moved since.

He just stood there, eyes settled on Jake and Heeseung.

Blank expression. No furrowed brows. No frown.

But Jake caught his gaze for a second—and froze a little.

There was something unreadable in Jungwon’s face. Not cold. Not upset.

Just… distant. Like a half-formed thought behind his eyes that didn’t reach his mouth.

Jake tilted his head. He tried to smile at him.

Jungwon blinked once. Nodded. Then looked away.

Jake frowned faintly.

He didn’t understand it, but he felt it—something.

But the moment passed.

Heeseung tugged at his sleeve, pulling him up. “C’mon. I’ll race you to the showers.”

“Loser buys coffee?” Jake offered.

“Done.”

They took off like kids, bickering the whole way down the hall.

Jungwon stayed behind, unmoving, until the studio emptied.

Then he exhaled slowly, like whatever was sitting in his chest didn’t have words yet.

The studio had gone still.

Only the soft hum of the AC and the faint squeak of sneakers across polished floors remained as Jungwon lingered, the last one left behind.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror. Not at his face—he wasn’t really looking at himself. Just vaguely in that direction, like he was trying to place something he didn’t quite understand.

Jake’s laugh still echoed faintly in his ears.

The way his eyes lit up when Heeseung teased him. How naturally he leaned in when someone needed comfort. How he softened without thinking, reflexively, like being warm was something he didn’t have to try to be.

It should’ve been fine.

It was fine.

But for a brief, flickering moment earlier, watching Jake with Heeseung like that—how naturally they fit together, how easy it was—Jungwon had felt something twist in his chest.

Not anger.

Not sadness.

Just… something uncomfortable. Something sharp at the edges and hard to name.

He’d trained himself not to feel things too deeply. Not when he was supposed to keep everyone grounded. Not when people depended on him to be the one who noticed things without needing to ask.

And he had noticed. Jake had been off lately—slower, quieter, softer in a way that didn’t feel entirely like him. But still smiling, still attentive, still orbiting everyone else like the sun, always making sure they were okay.

Jungwon had wanted to step in. He had tried, even.

But Jake hadn’t let him in.

And now here he was, watching from a distance again—unsure what this feeling even was, let alone what to do with it.

Jealousy?

Was that what it was?

It didn’t make sense. He wasn’t competing for Jake’s attention. It wasn’t like Jake was his.

Still.

There was something unsettling about the way Jake had smiled at Heeseung. Something about how natural it had looked.

Like that smile used to be his.

Jungwon let out a slow breath and ran a hand through his hair.

He didn’t like this.

He didn’t like feeling this way.

He wasn’t even sure what “this way” meant.

The lights in the practice room flickered once—automated reminder to get out before they shut off completely.

Jungwon grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

As he stepped into the hallway, Jake’s laughter floated down from the end of the corridor.

Jungwon didn’t move toward it.

He just stood there for a second, hand tightening around the strap of his bag.

Then he turned the other way.

Some things didn’t need to be figured out right now.

But the ache in his chest lingered, quiet and patient.

Waiting.

___

The morning started with music blaring from someone’s speaker and Ni-ki yelling down the hallway about his missing socks.

Another typical day in the dorm.

Jungwon sat at the kitchen counter, cradling a half-full mug of tea, watching Jake flip pancakes with the enthusiasm of someone hosting a cooking show instead of prepping for a full day of filming. His eyes were bright again, and the tiredness that dulled his edges yesterday seemed to have faded overnight.

“Jake, I swear if you burn that—” Jay warned from the couch.

“I never burn anything,” Jake said, dramatically flipping one with flair.

“Okay, but the last time you said that, you gave me charcoal.”

“Charcoal is natural,” Jake replied cheerfully.

Jungwon cracked a small smile behind his mug.

He’d been watching Jake all morning—silently, casually, like it was second nature now. Jake was loud again. Bouncing between the kitchen and the table, singing bits of whatever song was stuck in his head, throwing compliments at Sunghoon’s outfit and helping Sunoo tie the back of his mic pack when it got tangled.

It was… infuriatingly comforting.

Like nothing had ever been off in the first place.

And maybe that was what made Jungwon’s stomach twist a little.

Because now that Jake seemed fine again—more than fine, even—it almost felt like he was the one left behind. As if he’d imagined all the little shifts. The quieter laughter. The weight in Jake’s eyes. The way he’d looked at Heeseung with that soft smile, like he’d finally let someone else carry him.

But today?

Today he was glowing.

“I added bananas,” Jake said suddenly, appearing beside him with a plate of steaming pancakes. “You said you liked them last time, right?”

Jungwon blinked, caught off guard.

“…Yeah,” he said, a little too softly.

Jake didn’t seem to notice. He was already off again, placing plates in front of everyone, dancing around the kitchen like it was his stage. The sunlight hit his hair just right when he laughed, and Jungwon had to glance away, annoyed at the way his ears heated for no good reason.

He hated that he noticed so much.

He hated that he didn’t know what to do with what he noticed.

“Hyung,” Ni-ki called from the doorway, “are we wearing our jerseys again for EN-O’CLOCK or did the coordi-noona say something different?”

Jake answered before anyone else could. “She said comfy-casual. T-shirts and sneakers, no jerseys today.”

“How do you even remember that?” Jay asked, not looking up from his phone.

Jake shrugged. “I pay attention.”

Yeah, Jungwon thought, you do. Just never to yourself.

“Jungwon-ah.” Jake’s voice again. Gentle. Close.

Jungwon turned, and Jake was holding out a fork to him with an expectant look on his face. “Try the pancakes before they get cold.”

“I was gonna,” Jungwon mumbled.

Jake grinned. “I know, but I wanted to be sure.”

Jungwon took the fork. Jake lingered a second longer than necessary.

Then he was gone again.

Jungwon chewed slowly, watching Jake practically twirl his way over to Heeseung, laughing at some joke and tossing him a rolled-up napkin like they were back in high school.

And the ache came back. That dull, shapeless ache he couldn’t explain.

Jake was better.

And yet, for some reason, that only made things harder to sit with.

The pancakes were gone within minutes, the dorm buzzing with early energy and half-finished conversations.

Jake was still talking as they piled into the vans—about toppings, camera angles, and how he was definitely going to win the episode this time.

Jungwon sat beside him, watching with half-lidded eyes as Jake gestured dramatically, pulling Heeseung into a debate about garlic versus onion powder. The sun outside was soft through the van windows, the ride just long enough to make Jungwon want to lean against something warm and doze off.

But he didn’t. He just kept listening.

And when they finally stepped out onto set—a bright, open kitchen space lit like a cooking show from hell—Jake practically bounced out of the van like it was his personal playground.

“Today’s mission,” the PD announced, “is simple. Two teams. One hour. You’ll be judged on taste, creativity, and presentation.”

“Also,” Sunoo cut in with a raised eyebrow, “we’re definitely judging each other, right?”

“Obviously,” Jay said, cracking his knuckles. “I came here to fight.”

Jake clapped his hands once, far too excited. “Let’s gooo!”

Heeseung, Jungwon, and Jake were grouped together at the left counter. Team Golden Child or something equally ridiculous that Jake came up with on the spot. On the right side, the chaos crew—Jay, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Ni-ki—were already sharpening (plastic) knives and arguing over how to cook spam.

“We’re making kimchi fried rice,” Heeseung declared with confidence.

“Easy, but elite,” Jake nodded.

“Only if you don’t burn the garlic this time,” Jungwon added, eyebrow raised.

Jake turned to him with a hand over his heart. “Have a little faith in your hyung.”

Jungwon didn’t smile. Not with his mouth, at least. But he picked up the chopping board and moved closer, bumping Jake’s shoulder just slightly as he passed.

Heeseung rolled up his sleeves like he was auditioning for MasterChef, taking command of the pan while Jake bounced between cutting vegetables and hyping them up like a team leader with a mission. Jungwon stayed quiet but focused, moving like he’d done this a hundred times—efficient, clean, and precise.

But he never strayed far from Jake.

“Whoa, careful—don’t cut your hand,” Jungwon said quickly, pulling Jake’s hand back when the knife slipped too close.

Jake blinked. “Oh. Thanks.”

Heeseung, from the pan, added, “You’re gonna need those hands when we beat them.”

“IF you beat us,” Sunghoon called from the other side.

“Talk less, cook more!” Jake shouted back, laughing.

Sunoo was already plating aggressively, Ni-ki was pretending to sabotage the salt, and Jay looked like he was contemplating arson.

Meanwhile, Jungwon found himself stepping in again, brushing flour off Jake’s sleeve, handing him the right measuring spoon before he could guess and pour it all wrong.

Heeseung noticed.

He didn’t say anything, just smirked a little when Jake leaned into Jungwon’s space again to compare how much rice they each scooped.

“You guys gonna stand there and flirt or finish the eggs?” Heeseung asked casually.

Jake blinked. “We’re not—what—”

“I’m literally scrambling them,” Jungwon said flatly.

Jake nodded seriously. “It’s just efficient teamwork, hyung.”

“Mmm,” Heeseung hummed, stirring the rice. “If you say so.”

Across the kitchen, Sunoo elbowed Jay and whispered, “They’re being weird again.”

Jay didn’t even look up. “They’re always weird.”

__

“Five minutes left!”

The staff’s voice echoed through the kitchen set.

“Final touches, final touches!” Jake called out like he was running a bootcamp. “Heeseung-hyung, the egg garnish is ready! Jungwon-ah, can you wipe that side of the plate—”

“I already did,” Jungwon said, holding out the clean towel.

Jake beamed. “You’re actually an angel.”

“Maybe you should stop saying that while I’m holding a knife,” Jungwon muttered, but he handed him the plate anyway.

On the other side, chaos was erupting.

Sunghoon and Ni-ki were arguing about whether “burnt” counted as “smoky flavor.” Jay was fanning their dish dramatically. Sunoo was carefully decorating the top of their rice with seaweed cut into angry little faces.

“Art,” he whispered, eyes deadly serious.

When the timer buzzed, Jake threw his hands up in triumph, holding the finished plate in front of him like it was a newborn child.

“WE DID IT!” he shouted, grabbing Heeseung and Jungwon by the shoulders. “LOOK AT THIS! KIMCHI FRIED ROYALTY!”

“It’s literally fried rice,” Jungwon said, voice dry.

“Fried rice with heart,” Jake corrected.

Heeseung just shook his head, a soft grin tugging at his mouth.

The lights dimmed slightly, and a spotlight hit the center of the set as the MC voice announced:

“Now presenting… our judges for today’s EN-O’CLOCK Cooking Showdown!”

Cue dramatic music.

Out walked Jinu—camera director and noted coffee snob. Then Minhee—choreographer and known fried food enthusiast. And finally, Hyuna—head stylist, fashion queen, and sharp-eyed critic.

Jake clapped the loudest. “Hyuna-noona! You said I had good taste last time!”

“Yeah, in sneakers,” Hyuna said dryly as she approached the table.

Her gaze flicked toward Heeseung.

And for just a second, Heeseung smiled—barely.

Hyuna’s lips twitched back. Not enough to break character. Just enough to answer it.

Jungwon caught the moment, eyes narrowing faintly.

Jake missed it entirely. He was too busy adjusting the placement of the parsley on their plate.

First up: Sunoo’s Team.

Jay launched into a full pitch like he was selling a five-star restaurant.

“Our dish is called Hellfire Harmony, featuring bold flavors, burnt textures, and chaos energy.”

“Also known as: Sunghoon forgot the timer,” Minhee muttered after the first bite.

Hyuna took a small forkful, chewed slowly, and set the utensil down.

“It’s spicy,” she said.

“Like… good spicy?” Ni-ki asked hopefully.

“No,” Jinu said.

Sunoo gasped. “That’s a lie.”

“Next!” Hyuna snapped.

⸻

Then came Jake’s team.

They stood proudly behind their plate—Kimchi Fried Royalty—with the kind of casual confidence that only comes from knowing you didn’t screw it up too badly.

Jake did the talking.

“This dish represents balance. Teamwork. Clean flavors. A perfect mix of tradition and playfulness.”

“Dramatic,” Jungwon muttered under his breath.

Hyuna picked up her fork. Her fingers brushed Heeseung’s briefly when he reached to hand her a napkin.

Again—nothing said. But the way she didn’t pull back immediately, and the way Heeseung glanced at her from the corner of his eye?

Jungwon noticed that too.

Jake, once again, did not.

Hyuna took a bite. Paused. Then… nodded.

“This,” she said, “is actually really good.”

Jake turned to Jungwon and beamed.

Jinu and Minhee both agreed—it was cooked well, plated neatly, and actually seasoned.

“Looks like Team Fried Royalty takes the win!” the PD shouted.

Jake yelped and threw an arm around Jungwon in a victory squeeze. “We did it! Look at us!”

Heeseung smirked beside them, nodding.

Jungwon didn’t smile, not completely.

But his eyes flicked again to Hyuna and Heeseung.

Why did that bug him?

Jake was right there, practically glowing, his warmth spilling over everyone like sunlight—and yet…

Jungwon’s chest felt tight.

And not because they won.

Soon enough cameras cut. Lights dimmed. Energy dispersed in the usual way—loud at first, then tapering into soft conversations and slow packing.

Jake was still riding the high of the win.

“That’s two EN-O’CLOCKs in a row where I didn’t mess up a single dish,” he said proudly, pulling off his mic pack with a bounce in his step.

“Hyung, it was rice,” Jungwon replied, handing his own mic to the staff.

“Exactly,” Jake said, eyes wide. “Perfect rice.”

They walked side by side out of the kitchen set, heading toward the waiting area where their bags and jackets had been dumped earlier. Jake kept talking, half to himself—about the food, about whether they should do a tteokbokki challenge next, about how he was craving iced coffee even though it was freezing outside.

Jungwon listened. He always did.

But something tugged at the corner of his vision. A flicker of movement off to the side.

Hyuna. Standing near the corner makeup station, talking quietly with one of the stylists.

And Heeseung.

Following her.

Jungwon slowed his steps just slightly.

Hyuna was laughing at something—not loudly, but her smile lingered longer than it usually did around staff. She gestured toward Heeseung’s bangs, smoothing something out.

Heeseung said something back, sheepish, and reached up to touch the side of his face.

“I think I smudged my liner,” he said.

“It’s literally fine,” the stylist told him.

“I have solo stuff after this,” he replied, with the kind of casual confidence that only half-masked intent.

Jungwon frowned, just a little.

It wasn’t anything dramatic. Wasn’t scandalous. Wasn’t even flirtatious in an obvious way.

But there was something familiar about it—the way Heeseung lingered, the way Hyuna leaned in a bit more than necessary, the way her hand stayed on his shoulder a beat longer before dropping.

“—Wonnie?” Jake’s voice broke in gently.

Jungwon blinked. Turned.

Jake was looking at him with his jacket half-shrugged on, hair a little messy from changing clothes, smile still soft and open like it always was.

“You spaced out,” Jake said, amused. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Jungwon answered quickly. “Just… tired.”

Jake nodded easily. “Want to walk back together? I think Jay left already.”

“Sure.”

Jungwon glanced once more toward the station.

Heeseung was laughing now.

Hyuna hadn’t moved away.

Jake didn’t notice. He was already walking ahead, humming something under his breath, turning around halfway to grin at Jungwon like a puppy who expected his favorite person to follow without hesitation.

And Jungwon did follow.

He always did.

But something in his chest kept buzzing. Quiet. Persistent.

And entirely new.

The walk back to the dorm was easy.

Cold air, warm jacket, shoulders just barely brushing with Jungwon’s every few steps. Jake liked these kinds of endings. The ones where things weren’t loud or wild, just… comfortable. Soft.

Jungwon had been quieter than usual, but that wasn’t strange. He got like that sometimes—especially after filming. Focused, maybe. Or just tired. Jake didn’t think too much of it.

“Do you think we should’ve added more sesame oil?” he asked as they waited for the crosswalk.

Jungwon shrugged. “We still won.”

“True,” Jake said, nudging him lightly with his elbow. “Team Royalty supremacy.”

The light changed. They crossed.

Jake kicked a pebble down the sidewalk, hands stuffed in his pockets. His head still buzzed with leftover adrenaline from the shoot. He liked filming days. Everyone felt more like themselves when the cameras were rolling, not because they were performing—but because they had fun. It was a kind of chaos that made sense to him.

He glanced sideways.

Jungwon had his hands tucked into his hoodie, staring ahead like he was thinking about something important.

Jake smiled to himself.

He didn’t push.

They got back to the dorm a few minutes later. The upstairs one—his, Jungwon’s, and Sunoo’s.

Jake immediately flopped onto the couch, dragging a blanket over his legs, scrolling through his phone with one hand and mindlessly playing with the drawstring of his hoodie with the other.

Behind him, Jungwon lingered in the kitchen for a second—then disappeared into his room without a word.

Jake blinked.

He sat up a little.

It wasn’t weird. Not really. Just… a little sudden.

He stared at the closed door for a second, then shrugged.

Everyone had off days. And Jungwon had always been a little hard to read when he was deep in his head. Jake didn’t mind. He figured he’d talk when he was ready.

Still—

Jake leaned back, looking at the ceiling.

He replayed a moment from earlier. Jungwon standing beside him during the judging. That brush of his hand against Jake’s when they both reached for the same utensil. The way he’d gone still when Heeseung came over, just briefly.

Jake didn’t know what any of it meant.

If it meant anything at all.

But for the first time in a while, something about Jungwon’s silence didn’t feel quiet.

It felt… heavy.

Jake closed his eyes.

The blanket warmed slowly against his legs. He thought about texting him. Thought about getting up and knocking on his door.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he whispered to no one:

“Tomorrow’ll be lighter.”

He believed it.

Mostly.

Chapter Text

Jake liked to think he was pretty observant.

He was no detective or anything—not like Jungwon, who somehow noticed when someone was sad based on how loudly they shut the fridge—but Jake paid attention. He listened. He cared.

Which is why today?

Today felt… off.

It started with breakfast.

Sunoo, who was usually loud and dramatic before his first bite of food, was… quiet. Not silent, but definitely quieter than normal. His eyes kept darting toward Sunghoon, and Jake couldn’t tell if they were trying to telepathically communicate or start a staring contest.

Suspicious.

He narrowed his eyes from across the table, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of toast.

“Are you okay?” he asked, leaning into Sunoo’s space like an overly attentive parent.

Sunoo blinked. “I’m literally just eating cereal.”

“Right,” Jake said, totally not convinced. “But you seem nervous.”

Sunoo frowned. “I’m chewing.”

Jake nodded like he’d uncovered a crime. “Exactly.”

Sunoo shoved a spoonful of cereal into his mouth and didn’t make eye contact again.

Case closed.

Sort of.

Next was Ni-ki.

The youngest member looked like a war veteran today—dark circles under his eyes, hoodie over his head, curled up in the corner of the couch like he was seconds away from fading into the cushions.

Jake sat next to him, offering a comforting pat on the shoulder.

“You good?”

Ni-ki stared straight ahead. “I woke up to Sunghoon hyung singing G-Dragon in the shower at 6AM.”

Jake winced. “Rough.”

“It was a capella.”

“Traumatizing.”

Ni-ki sighed like a middle-aged man with three mortgages. “I’m done with this group.”

Jake nodded, patted his shoulder again, and whispered, “Stay strong.”

He looked across the room and saw Jay rubbing his temples, coffee in hand, glaring at Sunghoon like he’d personally wronged him in three past lives.

“Are you mad too?” Jake asked, walking up behind him.

“I’m exhausted,” Jay said without looking up. “And if I have to listen to Sunghoon’s playlist one more time, I will physically unplug the aux cord with my teeth.”

“Okay. So you are mad.”

“I’m not mad,” Jay said flatly. “I’m done.”

Jake wrote that down mentally.
Jay: Done.
Ni-ki: Done.
Sunoo: Nervous.
Sunghoon: Sus.

Which left…

Heeseung.

Jake turned his head and immediately found his hyung seated comfortably on the floor with his back against the wall, scrolling through his phone like he was getting paid for it.

“Who are you texting?” Jake asked suspiciously.

Heeseung didn’t look up. “No one.”

“You’re smiling.”

“It’s a funny meme.”

“You haven’t blinked in ten minutes.”

“Maybe I’m dead inside.”

Jake gasped. “It’s Sunoo, isn’t it?! Are you texting Sunoo right now while we’re in the same room?!”

Sunoo, from across the room: “WHAT?!”

Heeseung just smirked, looked up for exactly 0.3 seconds, then went back to his phone.

Definitely hiding something.
Jake marked him down as: Emotionally suspicious. Possibly texting a secret girlfriend. Definitely not Sunoo.

And finally…
Jungwon.

Jake turned, expecting to see him yawning or organizing their schedule or threatening Ni-ki under his breath for drinking juice straight from the bottle again.

Instead—

Jungwon was staring at him.

Not in a creepy way.

Just… quietly. Eyes a little narrowed, lips slightly parted, like he was thinking something very specific and very serious but didn’t want to say it.

Jake blinked.

Jungwon blinked back.

Then, without a word, he stood up, grabbed an orange off the counter, and walked away.

Jake stared after him, thoroughly confused.

“…Okay.”

Jungwon: Unreadable. Possibly fruit-related.

⸻

Jake sat down in the middle of the room, surrounded by his members who were all acting weird, tired, or borderline possessed.

And yet?

He smiled to himself.

“Man,” he said to no one. “I love this group.”

Then, after a few seconds of silence there was a sudden realization. One that Jay seemed to sense and internally groaned, it was Jake and his usual chaos.

Jake had cracked the case.

Not just a case—THE case.

There was something off with everyone lately, and he, Jake Sim, golden retriever of the people, future crime drama consultant, was going to figure it out.

He just needed a partner.

Unfortunately, his options were limited.

Jay would murder him.

Ni-ki would double murder him, and then sue his ghost.

Sunoo would outshine him and take all the credit.

So naturally, that left…

Jungwon.

Silent, stone-faced, scary Jungwon.

Jake found him in the hallway, calmly peeling the orange he had stolen earlier like he hadn’t just been staring into Jake’s soul five minutes ago.

“Wonnie,” Jake said seriously, stepping into his path.

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say—”

“No.”

Jake pouted. “Come on. I need backup. You’re smart and observant and a really good liar when we need to sneak snacks past the dietician.”

Jungwon stopped mid-peel. “I’m not helping you lie again.”

“It’s not lying,” Jake said quickly. “It’s investigating. For the greater good.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow.

Jake lowered his voice. “I think Heeseung-hyung is hiding a girlfriend.”

Jungwon blinked.

Jake continued, hands flying like a man possessed. “He’s been on his phone nonstop. Smiling. Flirting. And I know flirting. I invented flirting. He’s never smiled that hard unless it was for food or a dog.”

“Heeseung-hyung smiles all the time,” Jungwon deadpanned.

“Yeah, but not with dimples,” Jake whispered. “You only bring out the dimples for love.”

Jungwon gave him a flat look.

Jake held his stare. “Trust me. I know things.”

“You once thought Ni-ki and Sunoo were dating because they shared a water bottle.”

“They were feeding each other french fries!” Jake hissed.

“They do that to everyone.”

Jake ignored that. “Listen, I think it’s a stylist. One of our stylists.”

Jungwon rolled his eyes. “That’s literally illegal.”

“Love is illegal?”

“No, dating a stylist during contract hours is.”

Jake paused. “You know an awful lot about this, Wonnie.”

Jungwon peeled the rest of the orange without answering.

“Wait a second,” Jake said, slowly turning toward him. “Are you dating someone?”

Jungwon didn’t even flinch.

But that made it worse.

Jake gasped. “YOU ARE!”

“I’m not.”

“IS IT WINTER?!”

Jungwon choked on orange juice. “WHAT—NO—”

Jake was already pacing. “Oh my god. It all makes sense. The year-end stage. The shared water bottle. The matching earrings—”

“She gave me the other one because mine broke.”

“She gave you her heart!”

Jungwon put his face in his hands. “Jake, Winter’s not into me.”

“Why not?! You’re cute! You’re mysterious! You’re a little mean but that’s fine!”

“She’s literally a lesbian.”

Jake stopped. Blinked.

“Oh.”

Jungwon stared at him.

Jake stared back.

“…That’s actually kind of a serve,” Jake said finally. “Lesbian Winter. Iconic.”

Jungwon sighed and shoved the rest of the orange in his mouth just to shut himself up.

Jake, unfazed, continued his spiral.

“Okay. So not Winter. But Heeseung-hyung is definitely dating someone, right? Who else would he text that much?”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow.

Jake squinted. “…You know something.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

Jake gasped again. “IS IT YOU?! ARE YOU THE GIRLFRIEND?!”

Jungwon threw the orange peel at his face.

Then Jake managed to gather them all for a meeting, one that was said to be “really important for our tour in America coming soon” they all knew it was a lie, a trap, but it’s Jake we’re talking about. Who wouldn’t go into a meeting with Jake, who is usually so smart and thoughtful when it comes to things like this.

The team meeting room was supposed to be all serious business—schedules, promotions, rehearsals.

But to Jake? It was a goldmine.

He sat front and center, eyes darting from member to member like a hyperactive bloodhound sniffing for secrets.

“Okay, okay,” he said, tapping his pen against the table. “Before we get into next week’s schedule, I have some very important questions.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “What, like a quiz?”

“No! Like a… investigation. Because I’m suspicious.”

Jungwon sighed from his usual spot by the window, arms crossed. Heeseung smirked, Jay rolled his eyes, and Ni-ki tried to hide behind his hoodie.

Sunoo glanced nervously at Sunghoon, who was pretending to review a sheet of paper but was actually scrolling on his phone under the table.

Jake ignored all that and leaned forward.

“Sunoo, you look nervous. What’s up? Tell the truth. No secrets here.”

Sunoo blinked, then shrugged. “I’m just excited for the new choreography.”

Jake squinted. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

“Because I’m literally dancing it right now in my head,” Sunoo added quickly.

Heeseung snorted. “Sure you are.”

Jake wasn’t done.

“Ni-ki,” he said, pointing. “Why so tired? Spill.”

Ni-ki blinked owlishly. “Jay won’t stop talking about how he’s done with everything.”

Jay gave him a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

Jake laughed. “See? We’re all hiding things. This is like… espionage!”

Jungwon groaned and shoved his face into his hands.

Jake pressed on.

“Heeseung! Why won’t you put the phone down? Who’s making you laugh like that?”

Heeseung held up a finger, clearly enjoying the spotlight. “Can’t talk, this is classified.”

Jake narrowed his eyes.

“I’m onto you.”

Heeseung just smiled that goofy smile that made Jake’s heart twist for reasons he didn’t quite understand.

Jake turned to Jungwon.

“And you! Mr. Mysterious! What’s going on behind those unreadable eyes?”

Jungwon didn’t answer. He just raised one brow and looked at Jake like he was a particularly annoying mosquito.

Jake chuckled nervously.

“Alright,” Jake said, pretending to hold up a white flag. “Maybe I’m the only one who’s losing it.”

Jay snorted. “You are.”

Sunghoon finally spoke up, stretching. “This meeting feels like an episode of a detective drama.”

Jake’s eyes lit up.

“Exactly!”

The room collectively groaned.

Jake smiled, ignoring the eye rolls and sighs.

He was determined.

No secret would escape his notice.

Because, honestly?

He loved his messy, chaotic, secret-filled group more than anything.

Jake was on a roll.

Every glance, every half-smile, every little twitch was something—a clue, a secret, a story waiting to be told.

“Come on, guys,” he urged, leaning forward. “If you have secrets, now’s the time to share. We’re friends here. Mission Truth Seekers, remember?”

Heeseung chuckled, Jungwon rolled his eyes, Sunghoon pretended to be interested, and Ni-ki stayed buried in his hoodie like a very sleepy mole.

Jake’s smile was so wide it practically glowed.

Then Jay spoke up.

“Look, Jake,” Jay said, voice dripping with sarcasm and that delicious older-brother impatience. “Maybe the real mystery is why you think everyone has to confess their deepest secrets to you all the time.”

Jake blinked.

His smile faltered.

For exactly a heartbeat, the bright warmth in his eyes dimmed.

Jay smirked, satisfied.

But then—

Jake’s smile flared back like a sunrise.

“Because someone has to keep the group sane!” he said, voice loud and proud, hands clasped together like he was giving a motivational speech.

Everyone else groaned.

Except Jungwon.

Jungwon’s eyes never left Jake.

He noticed the flicker—the tiny moment when Jake’s light dimmed, then exploded back into full brightness.

Jay and Jake always argued. That was normal.

But this was different.

This was like the sun going behind a cloud for a second—and Jungwon knew better than anyone that when Jake’s light faltered, something was wrong underneath.

He watched Jake’s smile, watched the way his shoulders straightened, and felt a quiet, gnawing worry curl inside him.

What is he trying to hide?

But Jake didn’t say anything else.

He just kept glowing.

And for now, that was enough.

Jake wasn’t done.

Jay’s snark may have clipped his wings for half a second, but if anything, it only fueled the flames. He had a new theory now—one that tied everything together like a true-crime docuseries.

Heeseung was hiding something.

Correction: Heeseung was hiding someone.

So Jake, ever the professional, casually leaned back in his seat and called out across the table like it was no big deal:

“Heeseung-hyung~ So. Who were you texting earlier?”

Heeseung, who had been half-listening while scrolling on his phone again, froze.

“…no one.”

“Right,” Jake nodded sagely. “Definitely not a stylist named Hyuna or anything.”

The silence in the room turned into vibrational tension.

Sunoo gasped so hard he nearly dropped his pen.

Jay’s head snapped up like someone just activated his drama sensors.

Ni-ki sat up straighter—awake for the first time in hours.

Sunghoon didn’t even try to hide his grin.

Jungwon raised one brow, expression unreadable but very much alert.

Heeseung blinked. “What?”

Jake’s smile widened. “Hyuna?”

“I didn’t say Hyuna.”

Jake leaned in, eyes sparkling. “You did, though.”

“I didn’t—”

“You definitely said Hyuna,” Jay cut in, smirking like he was already preparing his acceptance speech for “Best Supporting Instigator.”

“Who’s Hyuna?” Ni-ki asked innocently, fully invested now.

Sunoo whipped his head around. “You don’t know?! She’s one of our stylists! She’s always the one fixing Heeseung-hyung’s sleeves onstage—”

“Oh my god,” Jake said, dramatically slapping the table. “The sleeve fixing! The solo touch-ups! The matching bracelets—!”

“We do not have matching bracelets!” Heeseung yelled.

“Then why are you yelling?” Sunghoon asked with the most smug little smile on his face.

Jungwon’s eyes hadn’t left Heeseung since the name slipped. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

Jake leaned forward, practically bouncing with energy now. “Just admit it. Hyuna-noona’s your mystery woman. The one you’ve been texting all day. You’ve been caught. This is your scandal arc.”

“There’s no scandal,” Heeseung muttered, ears visibly red. “She was texting me about styling.”

Jay raised an eyebrow. “Styling your heart?”

“Shut up—”

Jake clapped. “I KNEW IT. I KNEW YOU COULDN’T KEEP A SECRET.”

From somewhere across the room, Sunoo whispered, “Hyuna-noona was right.”

Heeseung buried his face in his hands.

“THIS IS THE BEST MEETING EVER,” Ni-ki announced.

Jake practically glowed as he stood dramatically and declared, “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: Lee Heeseung, the man who fell in love during a fitting.”

Jungwon snorted.

Even Jay was trying not to smile.

Heeseung was half-mortified, half-resigned—but Jake could see the little grin sneaking out from behind his fingers.

He’d cracked the case.

Accidentally.

But still.

Case closed.

Jake was still riding the high of exposing Heeseung like it was a season finale.

“Alright,” he said, standing dramatically and scanning the room like a detective choosing his next suspect. “Now that Heeseung’s tragic love story has been revealed, who’s next?”

Sunoo ducked behind a notepad.

Ni-ki immediately fake-yawned and stretched like he had just remembered his legs worked.

Jay glared. “If you point that finger at me, I swear—”

“Don’t tempt me, Jay,” Jake warned, aiming finger-guns at Jay with all the seriousness of a five-year-old playing FBI.

Jake’s eyes landed next on—

“Jake.”
The voice was firm. Clear. Leader mode.

Jake froze mid-spin.

Jungwon stood, arms crossed, expression unreadable but definitely not amused.

“We still haven’t finished the schedule breakdown.”

Jake blinked. “We—what?”

Jungwon stepped forward, grabbed the agenda sheet off the table, and tapped it twice. “We’re thirty minutes behind.”

The room fell silent.

Jake opened his mouth, looked at the sheet, then back at Jungwon.

Oh. Oh no.

The leader card had been played.

Everyone immediately took that as their cue to shut the hell up and go into listening mode.

Jake deflated just a little, slinking back into his chair while Jungwon took over like a soldier on a mission. Dates. Locations. Call times. Updates from management. His tone was focused. Efficient. Not angry, but not giving room for games either.

Jake could only nod along like a kid who’d just been told recess was over.

The meeting dragged on—standard stuff, stuff Jake normally cared about. But this time? He kept sneaking glances at Jungwon.

He wasn’t mad. Not really. Just serious.

Too serious.

Eventually, one by one, the members peeled off—back to their rooms, their phones, their naps.

Until it was just Jake and Jungwon.

And a door that had somehow closed behind them.

Jake glanced at it.

Then at Jungwon.

“…Sooo,” Jake said, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms dramatically behind his head, “you really pulled the leader card on me, huh?”

Jungwon didn’t look up from his notes. “You weren’t going to stop.”

“Was not,” Jake agreed cheerfully. “But you could’ve just glared at me like you usually do.”

Jungwon shrugged. “That doesn’t work anymore.”

Jake tilted his head. “Am I getting immune?”

Jungwon finally looked up, eyes locking onto Jake’s for a moment too long.

“You’re getting predictable.”

Jake blinked. That… felt weird.

“You always talk the most when you don’t want anyone else to notice something.”

Jake’s smile faltered again—just for a flash.

But he caught it and shoved it back up like a reflex.

“Gotta keep things interesting,” he said lightly, standing and gathering his papers. “Can’t let this group get boring, right?”

Jungwon said nothing. Just watched him.

Jake turned to the door.

But then he paused.

“Hey,” he said, still not looking at Jungwon. “You’re not really mad at me, are you?”

A beat.

“No,” Jungwon said quietly. “Just paying attention.”

Jake smiled again, but softer this time. Quieter.

He pushed the door open.

“See you upstairs, Leader-nim.”

And then he was gone.

Jungwon stared at the now-empty doorway.

Still paying attention.

The moment Jake got back to his room, he shut the door gently—not slammed, not locked. Just… closed.

He tossed his hoodie onto the floor, flopped onto the bed, and stared at the ceiling for a good ten seconds before reaching under his mattress and pulling out a spiral notebook with doodles all over the cover.

CONFIDENTIAL. DO NOT READ.
IF FOUND, RETURN TO JAKE THE DETECTIVE.
SERIOUSLY, I WILL CRY.

He flipped to a blank page and grabbed the nearest pen, chewing on the cap for a second.

Then he started writing.

⸻

Detective Log – Entry #47

Time: 7:13pm (right after the Meeting of Madness)

Location: My Room / Safe Zone / HQ

Mission status: Heeseung-hyung has been compromised.
Confirmed romantic entanglement with Hyuna-noona. Possible long-term? Unclear. Potential wedding bells? Possibly. He denies it. He’s lying. He’s the worst liar in the group. Sorry, hyung.

Ni-ki: Showing signs of burnout. Solution: force him to nap. (Mission “Operation Blanket Ambush” pending.)

Jay: Still hostile. Probably needs a hug. Would punch me if I tried. Will attempt anyway.

Sunoo: Nervous. Not sure why. Might be hiding a scandal. Or maybe he just had too much coffee. Need to investigate further.

Sunghoon: Seems fine. Too fine. Suspiciously fine. Possible sociopath. Will monitor closely.

Jungwon: …Unreadable. Scariest member of the group. Possibly psychic. May be plotting my downfall.
Or—
Maybe he’s mad at me.

Jake paused.

He tapped the pen against his lip.

He wrote slower:

Jungwon (cont.): Said he wasn’t mad. Used “Leader Voice,” though. Serious eyes. Serious everything.
But he didn’t yell.
Didn’t walk away.
Stayed with me.
Even when everyone else left.

Jake stared at the page.

Then he scribbled quickly underneath:

Conclusion: probably not mad.
Possibly disappointed. Which is worse.

He blew out a breath and set the pen down, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling again. His brain wouldn’t shut up.

Too many thoughts. Too many feelings.
About Heeseung. About Jungwon. About keeping the group together and being the fun one and solving everyone’s problems before they even say them out loud.

He didn’t mind. Really.

It was just… a lot, sometimes.

His doctor—the therapist he saw on Tuesdays, even though he hated the word “therapist” because it made things feel heavy—told him that writing stuff down helped. That when it all felt like too much, getting it out on paper would give his brain room to breathe.

So that’s what this was.

Totally normal. Totally fine.

Totally not emotional.

Just Detective Stuff™.

Jake closed the notebook, slid it back under the mattress, and exhaled slowly.

Tomorrow, he’d get more answers.

He always did.

Chapter Text

Jake woke up early the next morning.

Not because of an alarm, or a schedule, or even a knock at the door.

He just... couldn't sleep.

His brain felt like a browser with too many tabs open. Heeseung. Hyuna. Jungwon. The weird energy in the group lately. Jay's jab from yesterday. That one time Sunoo almost cried watching a dog commercial and Jake pretended not to notice.

Too many tabs.

He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes, and reached under the mattress to grab his journal again. Just to glance at the page. Just to see if it still made sense in the daylight.

It did.

Maybe too much.

He shut the notebook again.

Stood. Stretched. Looked out the window.

The dorm was still quiet. Sunoo's door was closed, Jungwon's light was off. A rare calm moment before another full day.

Jake padded into the kitchen, made a cup of tea—not coffee, tea—and sat down with his knees pulled up to his chest like a tired little detective off duty.

"I think too much," he thought.
"But maybe not in the right ways."

He didn't know what was going on with his members. Not really. But he was starting to notice things—more than before.

Things he'd missed while trying too hard to be the cheerful one. The fixer. The one who made everyone else okay.

He didn't want to lose that part of himself.

But maybe it was okay to just... be confused. For now.

To not fix it all at once.

To just sit in the quiet for a second, and let the tabs stay open.

Jake had just taken his third sip of tea—arms wrapped around the mug like a lifeline, forehead resting lightly on the edge of the table—when the dorm's tranquility shattered.

BANG.

CRASH.

"WHERE'S THE CHARGER—"
thud
"OW—WHO MOVED THE COUCH?!"

Jake didn't flinch. He just sighed.

Right on cue, Ni-ki burst into the kitchen like a raccoon on energy drinks.

He was wearing two different socks, a hoodie that definitely belonged to Sunghoon, and a look of sheer panic.

"I'm gonna die," Ni-ki announced dramatically, already rifling through the drawers. "I have two percent battery and I can't find my charger. Do you have yours? Do you have a spare? Do you have anything?!"

Jake calmly sipped his tea. "Good morning to you, too."

Ni-ki whipped around, eyes wild. "Jake-hyung, I'm being serious. If I don't respond to this message in like five minutes, I'm gonna look like a ghoster. A ghoster."

Jake blinked. "...Are you talking about that group chat with the aespa noonas?"

"No!" Ni-ki paused. "Yes. But that's not the point. The point is—"

Jake reached under the counter and handed over a charger without a word.

Ni-ki stared at him. "You're a lifesaver. An angel. My actual dad."

Jake gave him a look. "Please never say that again."

Ni-ki plugged in his phone like it was a medical emergency, flopped into the chair across from Jake, and let out a sigh loud enough to rattle the windows.

They sat in silence for a beat.

Jake took another sip of tea.

Ni-ki immediately reached for his mug. "What are you drinking?"

"Tea."

"Can I try it?"

"You hate tea."

"Let me live."

Jake passed the mug over. Ni-ki took one sip and gagged theatrically.

"OH MY GOD—this tastes like sadness and grass."

Jake snorted. "It's chamomile."

"It's criminal."

Jake reached over and ruffled Ni-ki's hair, ignoring the younger's squawk of protest.

Despite the chaos, the dramatics, and the way he acted like a gremlin 90% of the time, Ni-ki still looked at Jake like he hung the stars sometimes. Like he was a constant.

Jake never really thought about what that meant.

He just... liked being someone Ni-ki could lean on.

Even if leaning looked more like yelling about phone batteries and stealing tea.

"I missed this," Ni-ki mumbled after a while, scrolling through his phone again. "Like, us. Just being chill."

Jake tilted his head. "We live together."

"Yeah, but everyone's been all busy and weird lately."

Jake blinked.

...Oh.

So it wasn't just him.

Jake gave a small smile. "You think something's going on, too?"

Ni-ki didn't look up. "I dunno. Just feels like we're all in our own little bubbles. Like no one wants to say anything, but we're all thinking too much."

Jake stared at him.

Ni-ki kept scrolling.

Then added, "Also, Heeseung-hyung is definitely dating Hyuna-noona. Tell me I'm wrong."

Jake grinned.

"You're absolutely right."
Ni-ki was still curled up at the table like a dramatic Victorian child recovering from heartbreak. Jake stood at the stove now, stirring eggs like a sitcom mom.

"You want toast or rice?" he asked.

"Toast," Ni-ki mumbled, not looking up. "But the fancy kind. The one with the butter that Sunoo hides behind the oat milk."

Jake smirked. "Of course. Only the best for my battery-challenged baby."

"Hyung, don't say it like that."

Jake plated the food, set it down in front of him with a flourish, then gently pushed Ni-ki's hair back out of his eyes like he was in a shampoo commercial.

"You seriously need a haircut."

"You seriously need to mind your business."

Jake laughed, ruffling his hair again just to annoy him.

That's when the front door clicked.

And the quiet shift in the air made Jake's body tense before his brain even registered why.

Footsteps padded into the kitchen—two sets.

Sunoo came in first, wrapped in a fluffy hoodie three sizes too big and holding a phone like it owed him money. "Who made breakfast?" he asked, voice scratchy with sleep.

Jake opened his mouth to answer but then—

Jungwon.

Trailing just behind, hair messy, socks mismatched, face unreadable.

Jake froze for a fraction of a second.

He told himself not to stare. Not to think anything of it.

Jungwon's not mad. He said he wasn't mad. He's just serious. Focused. Being a leader.

And yet.

Jake's smile softened a little too much. His voice dropped a little too low when he spoke again.

"Morning," he said, setting out two more plates without being asked. "You guys sleep upstairs?"

Sunoo blinked like he'd forgotten where he was. "Huh? Oh—yeah. Riki came up because my room has better A/C or whatever."

Ni-ki grunted through a mouthful of toast. "Also your room smells like strawberries."

"Because I clean."

Jake chuckled.

But he could feel it—that slight stutter in his rhythm. Like his internal compass kept tilting toward Jungwon, hoping for something. Anything.

A nod. A smile. A sign that things were okay.

Jungwon said nothing at first. Just sat down at the far end of the table, picked up his fork, and quietly started eating.

Jake's heart did something weird. Anxious.

So he defaulted back to what he did best—being bright. Being normal. Being fine.

He spun back around toward the stove. "Eggs are mid today, but I did my best. The tea is criminal, according to Riki. And I don't know where Jay is but I'm guessing he's avoiding everyone until noon."

Ni-ki snorted. "Jay-hyung always avoids everyone."

Jake laughed along.

But he noticed the quiet. The way Jungwon still hadn't looked at him. Not once.

Jake's smile didn't drop this time.

But it wobbled.

Just a little.

Jake kept moving.

Wiping the counter that didn't need wiping. Reorganizing the already-organized mugs. Repeating Sunoo's question back to him like a game show host.

Anything to seem normal.

Anything but stare at Jungwon.

Even though he could see him in the corner of his eye.

Even though he noticed every. single. thing.

The way Jungwon barely touched the eggs.

The way he stayed silent as Ni-ki and Sunoo bickered about butter.

The way his fork moved in lazy patterns—poke, push, poke again.

Jake was good at pretending. It was his superpower.

But his thoughts wouldn't let up.

He's picking at them. Does he not like it? Did I screw it up? He used to eat two helpings. Did he eat upstairs already? No—he's not even halfway through. He's mad. Or tired. Or both. Or—

Then, suddenly, his plate was empty.

Clean.

Jake blinked.

Wait—when did he—

And before he could even open his mouth to joke about it, Jungwon finally looked up.

Right at him.

Jake froze.

And Jungwon, with the softest expression—not a smile, not a grin, just that blank, sleepy face he wore when he was too tired to act cool—said,
"Thanks for breakfast."

Jake's heart jumped.

Not just because of the words.

But because of how quiet they were. How unnecessary. How... intentional.

That wasn't a leader being polite. That wasn't a filler line.

That was Jungwon looking at him like he meant it.

Jake's lips twitched.

Then curled into a full, glowing smile.

Sunoo groaned. "Why do you look like you just got proposed to."

Ni-ki gagged. "Hyung, wipe that grin off your face before it blinds me."

Jake didn't say anything.

He just poured himself another cup of criminal tea, heart a little lighter.

Because no matter what his brain tried to convince him...

Jungwon wasn't mad.

Jungwon wasn't disappointed.

And that quiet little "thanks" told him more than any long conversation ever could.

Breakfast eventually dissolved into the usual mess.

Ni-ki licking butter off his fingers like a feral child. Sunoo scrolling through skincare deals while pretending to listen to Sunghoon's half-baked conspiracy theory about music show rigging. Jay complaining about the Wi-Fi again. Jungwon silently stacking plates in the sink.

Jake just let it all wash over him.

He leaned back in his chair, smiling quietly as the voices rose around him. Familiar. Loud. Loved.

But then—

"Jake."

Heeseung's voice cut clean through the noise.

Jake looked up, halfway through stealing a bite of Ni-ki's toast.

The older was standing by the doorway, arms crossed, wearing that half-serious, half-gentle expression he only pulled out for important things.

Jake blinked. "Yeah?"

Heeseung tilted his head. "What day is it?"

Jake blinked again. "...Wednesday?"

Heeseung raised an eyebrow.

And that's when it clicked.

"Oh," Jake said. Then: "Ohhh."

Sunoo gasped. "Doctor day?!"

Jay snorted. "You forgot again?"

"I didn't forget," Jake said, standing up quickly. "I was just... immersed in my chef duties."

Ni-ki nodded solemnly. "Yeah, he made me toast. That's trauma."

Heeseung ignored them all. "You've got twenty minutes. You want me to drive?"

Jake hesitated. "I can take a taxi."

"I offered to drive."

Jake met his eyes.

That was the thing about Heeseung—he never pushed. Never prodded. But when he offered, it was basically a soft command.

Jake sighed. "Okay. Gimme five to change."

He made it halfway to his room before Sunghoon called after him, "Tell your doctor I said hi~"

Jake waved over his shoulder. "She likes you more than me anyway!"

That earned a chorus of laughter and a sarcastic "True!" from someone—probably Jay.

⸻

Five minutes later, he was in Heeseung's car, hoodie pulled over his head, sunglasses on despite the gloomy sky. His notebook was shoved into his bag, just in case he needed to show her evidence of how much he'd accomplished this week. Like cracking the Heeseung x Hyuna scandal wide open. (He'd leave that part out.)

He glanced at Heeseung as they pulled out of the parking lot.

"You don't have to do this, you know," he mumbled. "Drive me, I mean."

Heeseung shrugged, eyes on the road. "I know."

Jake let out a soft breath.

Neither of them said anything for a while. The radio hummed quietly between them.

Eventually, Jake murmured, "She's not even a real therapist."

Heeseung didn't look at him. "No?"

"She's just... my doctor. She helps me untangle stuff. That's all."

"Sounds like a therapist."

Jake frowned.

But Heeseung wasn't teasing. His voice wasn't sarcastic. Just steady.

Reassuring.

Jake sank deeper into his seat.

He still didn't like the word.

But maybe, on Wednesdays, it didn't matter.

Heeseung parked outside the usual building, humming along to something on the radio while Jake stared at the glass entrance like it was the gates of hell.

"Want me to walk you in?" Heeseung offered.

Jake unbuckled his seatbelt. "You wanna hold my hand too?"

"I would, actually. But I'm wearing rings."

Jake laughed, softer than usual, and stepped out of the car. Hoodie on. Bag slung over his shoulder. Heart... weird.

He gave Heeseung a little salute through the window.

Heeseung smiled. "I'll wait down the street."

"Don't run away with my wallet."

"No promises."

Jake walked through the glass doors, past the quiet front desk, and into the little office on the third floor.

It always smelled like vanilla and those clean wood candles from department stores. There were two armchairs. A couch. Soft yellow light. A box of tissues he'd only used once, and even then it was for a nosebleed.

His therapist—his doctor—was already there, seated with a clipboard and a gentle smile.

"Morning, Jake."

He dropped into the armchair with a dramatic sigh. "I deserve a sticker just for showing up."

"I can arrange that."

"You always say that. I've seen zero stickers."

She chuckled, jotting something down. "What's been on your mind this week?"

Jake leaned his head back against the chair, eyes drifting toward the ceiling.

"Nothing major," he said. "Just the usual. The group's been busy. We're filming more content. Jungwon's working too hard. Riki's still loud. Sunoo's skin looks better than ever. Sunghoon's probably a lizard person—no proof yet, but I'm working on it."

She hummed patiently, waiting him out.

Jake fiddled with a thread on his sleeve. "I had to get an IV last week," he added, like it was an afterthought. "Nothing serious. I just... sometimes forget to eat."

She glanced up.

Jake kept going. "Needles suck. Hate them. But the nurse was cool. She had blue nails and told me I have 'weirdly nice veins.' Which is probably a thing you shouldn't say to someone panicking, but she meant well."

He laughed lightly at himself.

Then added, "Riki wants to get matching tattoos."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. He said we're soulmates. But like, in a family way. I said I'd think about it."

"Did you?"

Jake shrugged. "I did. He's the closest thing I have to a little brother. I never really had siblings, but... I dunno. It'd be cool. I'd get something small. Maybe something stupid, like a banana."

She smiled. "That's not stupid."

Jake tilted his head. "Banana tattoos are kind of stupid."

"Not if they mean something."

Jake didn't answer.

Instead, he ran a hand through his hair and exhaled through his nose.

The silence stretched a little.

And then she asked it.

The question she always did—at some point. But somehow, it always landed like a pin dropping in an empty room.

"How have you been feeling, Jake?"

The room didn't get louder.
It got quieter.

Jake blinked. Once.

Then again.

His fingers stopped moving.

His breath hitched—but barely.

It was like everything inside him froze. Like someone pressed pause on a song he didn't realize was playing too loud.

He opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

He looked at the window.

Then the rug.

Then his knees.

And finally, he forced a smile. Not fake—just practiced.

"Sorry," he said, voice light. "That one's harder."

She nodded slowly, calmly. "It's okay. You don't have to answer right now."

Jake looked down at his hands.

And said nothing.
Jake stayed quiet for a while.

That question still hung in the air.
How are you feeling?

But he sidestepped it like he always did. Not because he didn't want to answer.

Because he didn't know how.

So instead—

"I think Jungwon's upset with me."

His voice was light again, like he was just gossiping. Not spiraling.

His therapist didn't interrupt.

Jake went on.

"He says he's not. He told me he wasn't. But... I don't know. He hasn't been looking at me the same. His voice is flatter. His eyes too. He didn't eat all the eggs I made even though I saw the plate was clean. I mean, what does that mean?"

His laugh was nervous. Fragile.

"I keep thinking I did something wrong. Like maybe I pushed too far during our team meeting or maybe I've just been too much lately. He's been different. And I can't tell if it's because of me or if he's just tired or—"

He caught himself.

Breathed in.

Breathed out.

Then pivoted.

"But Heeseung-hyung's good. Or... he seems like he's good. He's been on his phone a lot more than usual. I think he's dating someone. I think it's Asia. I'm like... ninety percent sure. He hasn't said anything, but I know his 'I'm texting my girlfriend' face."

His voice softened without him noticing. The corners of his mouth curled. "It's kinda sweet, actually. He's a loser. He gets all shy when anyone asks about his phone now. He doesn't even try to lie well. And she makes him smile like he's in a romcom. Makes me happy to see him happy."

He paused again, gaze dropping to his shoes.

"Jay's... probably the most emotionally intelligent person in the group," he said, quieter now. "You met him once, remember? He drove me here that day Heeseung couldn't. Jay's the one I'd trust to run the group if Jungwon ever combusted. But he's been exhausted lately. I don't think he knows how to say it, though. Like, I know he's good at talking, but... he's also good at holding it in."

His tone was even. Controlled.

He continued.

"Sunoo's been acting normal, mostly. But I can tell something's off. His smile doesn't hit as hard. He's been fidgeting more. I don't know if he's just stressed or if something's bothering him, but I don't want to push. He'll talk when he's ready. I hope."

A pause.

Then:

"Riki's..." His voice softened again. Fond now. Gentle. "Riki's still a kid. Not a kid, but... you know. He never really got to be one. He works like he's twenty-five but cries when his phone dies. I don't think he even realizes how much he missed out on by debuting so young. So I just try to play with him. Let him be annoying. Let him steal my tea and destroy my charger and call me his 'fake dad.'"

He laughed. Really laughed.

Then looked down again, voice dipping lower.

"I just... want him to have someone. Someone who doesn't expect him to be professional all the time. Someone who doesn't see him as a brand."

Silence again.

Then, as if the thought snuck up on him—

"My mom loves Sunghoon."

The statement hung awkwardly.

Jake tried to laugh it off. "Like, really loves him. She actually said once—jokingly, I think—that if I wasn't gonna marry Sunghoon, she would."

He smiled to himself. It wasn't forced.

"Sunghoon's always been steady. Cold on the outside, but he's the one who checks if my water bottle's full during practice. Tells me when I'm pushing too hard. Doesn't make it a thing, just... quietly takes care of people. I don't say it enough, but he feels like home sometimes. Like—he doesn't even try to be, but he is."

He rubbed his palms together, suddenly aware of how warm the room felt.

"And that's... that's everyone," he said finally, glancing at her.

She gave him a small nod.

"You talk about them with a lot of love," she said gently.

Jake shrugged, smiling thin. "They're my people."

"But I asked how you were feeling, Jake."

His smile faltered.

"I know."
The silence that followed his last words wasn't heavy.

It was gentle.

Quiet, but not sharp.

Like the room knew what Jake wasn't ready to say.

He sat there, fingers curled against the hem of his hoodie, heart tugging in two directions—one that wanted to speak, and one that just wanted the moment to pass.

She didn't push.

Didn't ask again.

Instead—

"Have you been journaling?" she asked softly.

Jake blinked.

Then—"Yes." A breath of relief. "Yes. Actually, a lot this week."

Her head tilted, inviting but not intrusive. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

He smiled. Not just with his lips—his shoulders relaxed, his voice lifted. "Okay, so. You remember the meeting we had last week, right? Group stuff, scheduling, that whole mess. Well. That spiraled. I kind of accidentally—maybe—turned it into an interrogation?"

Her brows lifted, amused. "An interrogation."

Jake nodded solemnly. "I had my notebook. I made a list. I was on a mission."

"What kind of mission?"

He lit up.

"To find out what everyone's hiding."

She blinked.

He grinned wider. "No, no, I swear it's not as insane as it sounds—okay, maybe a little, but it makes sense. Heeseung was acting shady, so I investigated. Found out he's definitely dating Hyuna—secretly. Jay is tired of all of us but refuses to admit it. Sunoo is... harder to pin down, but I think he's stressed about the next comeback. Riki is going through his 'eternal teenager' phase. Sunghoon knows everything and says nothing. And Jungwon—well..."

He paused, stopping his rambling for a second.

The light dimmed, just slightly.

"I still don't know."

He was quiet for a moment.

Then: "He's unreadable, you know? Like a glass of water. Still. Clear. But you never know how deep it goes. I keep trying to figure him out but the more I look, the more I think I've just never really seen him. Not properly."

She didn't say anything.

Jake tugged at the zipper on his sleeve. "I think he's the hardest to write about."

"In your journal?"

"Yeah."

A breath. Lighter this time.

"But it helps," he added. "Writing. Even if I'm just projecting 99% of the time. Like I wrote a whole entry about how Sunghoon's probably the person I'd trust to hide a body, and it somehow turned into a breakdown about my sleep schedule."

She smiled again. "Would you like to bring it next time?"

Jake hesitated.

Then nodded.

"Sure. Just don't judge my handwriting. Or my spelling. Or the part where I called Jay the 'grumpy housewife of the group.'"

"No judgment," she said gently.

Jake leaned back in his chair, the air easier to breathe now.

He still hadn't answered the big question.

But at least now...
He didn't feel like he was running from it.

The automatic doors slid open behind him with a soft whoosh as Jake stepped outside, blinking against the daylight.

He scanned the curb.

No car.

Heeseung said he'd wait down the street. He'd definitely said he'd be here.

Jake turned left.

Nothing.

Right?

Still nothing.

His heart jumped once, then twice. He pulled out his phone, quick fingers opening messages.

No text.

No text?

Heeseung always texted.

Jake's chest tightened as the wind picked up, ruffling his hoodie. He started walking faster down the sidewalk, glancing up and down every side street like the car might materialize if he just believed hard enough.

Still no car.

Still no text.

Still no Heeseung.

"Okay," he muttered, trying to steady his breath. "It's fine. It's probably fine. He probably just circled around or got coffee or—shit—shitshitshit—"

He scrolled through his contacts, thumb flying past names until he landed on Sunghoon.

He hit call.

But in his panic, he didn't notice that his trembling fingers had selected the wrong name.

"Hello?"

"Sunghoon? Sunghoon, I—I can't find—Heeseung's gone, I swear he said he'd be here but I don't see his car and I don't know where I'm supposed to go!"

There was a pause.

"...Jake?"

His blood ran cold.

That wasn't Sunghoon.

That was Jungwon.

Oh no. Oh shit.

"I—wait, wait, Jungwon—sorry—fuck, I meant to call—"

"Where are you?"

Jake whipped around, like maybe Jungwon was somehow behind him.

"I'm outside the doctor's building—Heeseung said he'd wait but he's not here! I checked the street like he said, he's not here, I swear—fuck, fuck, Jungwon I didn't mean to call you, I just—"

"Hey. Jake."
Jungwon's voice cut through the spiral like a blade. Firm. Calm.

Jake's chest was heaving now. His accent was thickening under the stress, syllables blurring.

"I-I'm not tryna freak out, it's just—He said he'd wait, yeah? Like—like, what if I missed him? What if he was here and I didn't see him? Oh my god, what if he thought I left? What if he left because he thought I forgot?!"

"You didn't forget."

"I know, but—fuck, I just— I don't know what I'm doing, Jungwon. I don't know what I'm supposed to do—"

"We're coming."

Jake froze. "...What?"

"We're on the way," Jungwon said again, firmer this time. "Jay-hyung's getting the car. Stay where you are. Do not move."

Jake's breath caught.

"You—what?"

"I said stay. Right. There."

Click.

The call ended.

Jake stood on the corner, phone still pressed to his ear, like the wind had knocked him over without touching him.

⸻

[Meanwhile — Jungwon's POV]

Jungwon slid his phone into his pocket and turned to where Jay was already unlocking the car.

"He's freaking out," Jungwon said, climbing into the passenger seat. "Hyung didn't come back for him."

Jay blinked. "Heeseung?"

"Yeah. Jake called me by accident. He was trying to reach Sunghoon."

Jay's mouth pulled tight. "Of course he was."

"He's panicking."

Jay nodded, already pulling out of the garage. "Hang tight."

By the time the black van pulled up beside him, Jake had nearly worn a groove into the pavement with his pacing.

The passenger door opened first.

And then—Jungwon.

Eyes sharp. Expression unreadable.

Jake wanted to collapse.

"I swear," Jake started, breathless, "I really thought—"

Jungwon didn't say anything.

Just held the door open.

Jake slid in.

Jay turned in the driver's seat with a sigh. "Heeseung texted me, by the way. He had a solo thing and forgot to tell you. You weren't abandoned."

Jake stared down at his hands, heart still pounding.

"Oh."

Jungwon reached over, buckled Jake's seatbelt for him without a word.

Then sat back.

And said, soft enough to melt:

"Next time... call me on purpose."

The car was silent.

Not in a cold way—just in the way that followed after a panic. That type of hush that clung to everything, like a fog Jake couldn't shake.

Jay drove with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping lightly on the center console to some rhythm only he could hear. Jungwon sat beside Jake in the backseat, staring out the window, his face unreadable as ever.

Jake folded and unfolded his sleeves. Eyes down. Mouth dry.

He finally broke the silence.

"...Thanks for picking me up," he said.

Jay glanced in the rearview. "Of course."

Jake peeked at Jungwon—who didn't look back. His gaze stayed fixed out the window, expression neutral.

Jake's stomach twisted.

He looked back at Jay. "He only came because he's leader, huh?"

Jay blinked. "What?"

"Jungwon," Jake said quietly. "He only came 'cause I'm part of the group. I freaked out. That's on me. He did what any leader would do. He's probably sick of dealing with me."

Jay didn't answer right away.

Then, he let out a single, low breath—half laugh, half sigh.

"Jake."

Jake met his eyes in the mirror.

"You're not too much," Jay said calmly. "You've never been too much. You just feel everything. Loudly."

Jake stayed still.

Jay's voice softened, just a touch. "And Jungwon doesn't hate that. Not even a little."

Jake glanced sideways.

Jungwon hadn't moved.

Hadn't said a word.

"Then why does he look like that?" Jake asked, too quickly. "He's been so... quiet. And cold. Like I pushed too far and now he's just trying to hold it together until I back off—"

Jay cut him off. "That's not cold, Jake."

Jake blinked.

"That's someone who feels too much and doesn't know how to say it. That's someone who probably wanted to sprint to you the moment you called, but kept his cool because he didn't want to scare you more."

Jake looked down again.

Jay gave him one last glance. "You're so worried about being a burden, you forget people want to carry you sometimes."

Jake didn't say anything.

But something cracked open in his chest.

Not broken.
Just... unlatched.

⸻

[Later – Outside the Dorm Entrance]

Jay dropped them off and said something about getting coffee and possibly never returning. Typical.

Jake stood in front of the elevator beside Jungwon, bouncing the strap of his bag against his thigh.

The silence had shifted again. Not tense—just full.

Jake kept stealing glances.

Jungwon stood like he always did: arms at his sides, face neutral, posture good. A statue of someone pretending not to care.

But now Jake was looking.

Really looking.

He didn't see coldness anymore.

He saw restraint.
Nervousness.
Maybe even something like hope.

Jake's fingers twitched.

He thought about Jay's words.

You're not too much.

You just feel everything. Loudly.

He wondered if Jungwon felt that way too.
If he felt everything—and just didn't have the words for it.

The elevator dinged.

They stepped in. The doors slid shut.

And Jake thought, Maybe... he doesn't hate me after all.

He didn't realize he was smiling.

Not until Jungwon glanced over—

And smiled too.
The second they walked into the dorm, Ni-ki's voice hit like a speeding truck.

"You got LOST?!"

Jake winced.

"I wasn't lost, I was—"

"Hyung, you literally called Jungwon like the world was ending—"

"I meant to call Sunghoon!"

"And you called Jungwon? That's a cry for help, bro."

Jake groaned, already regretting everything.

Sunoo poked his head out from the kitchen with a spatula. "Riki, shut it—don't overwhelm him—"

"But he—!"

Bonk.

The spatula came down squarely on Riki's head.

"Ow! What the hell?!"

"Language," Sunoo snapped.

Jake stood awkwardly in the middle of the chaos, his bag still slung over one shoulder, his hoodie still warm from the car ride. His brain was a mess of Jay's words, Jungwon's silence, and Riki's loud commentary.

Then—laughter.

Soft. Barely there.

He turned and saw Sunghoon leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed, mouth tugged into the smallest smirk.

"You panicked," Sunghoon said, eyes glinting.

Jake scowled. "No, I didn't."

"You tried to call me."

Jake blinked.

Sunghoon's gaze didn't waver. "I checked my missed calls."

Jake flushed, pink rising in his ears. "That was... muscle memory."

Sunghoon didn't answer—just raised an eyebrow and pushed off the wall with a knowing look that said yeah, sure it was. Then he disappeared into the kitchen without another word.

Jake exhaled. Embarrassed. Warm. Kinda exposed.

In the middle of it all, he caught a glimpse of Jungwon.

The younger had slipped out of his shoes and into the hallway without saying anything. His back was to the group, one hand braced on his doorframe as he leaned in to grab something—maybe a bag, maybe his water bottle. He was quick about it.

Avoidant.

Jake frowned.

Before he could say anything, someone else walked in.

"Ten minutes," Yuki called from the entryway, voice clipped but calm. "Get ready for practice, we're not running behind today."

"Roger that," Jay muttered from somewhere in the living room, already pulling on a hoodie.

Sunoo tossed Riki a banana. "Fuel up, child."

Jake turned to look down the hallway again—

But Jungwon's door had already clicked shut.

Chapter Text

"I told you," Jungwon said, voice tight, "I told you to text him."

Heeseung looked up from his phone, blinking like he'd only just realized this wasn't a casual conversation.

"I was going to!" he said, brows furrowing. "I had to run. The staff was already yelling at me to get in the van and—"

"You forgot."

Heeseung opened his mouth. Closed it.

Then nodded. "...Yeah. I forgot."

Jungwon let out a sharp breath through his nose, pacing the small space between the kitchen counter and the fridge.

Jay sat on the couch nearby, nursing a mug of iced coffee and watching the back-and-forth like a referee who had already given up.

"Look," Heeseung tried again, "I told Jay to go get him. It wasn't like I just ditched him."

"That's not the point!" Jungwon snapped.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. "Then what is the point?"

Jungwon stopped.

Went quiet for a beat too long.

Jay looked between them and spoke before the silence got heavy. "Won."

Jungwon didn't look at him.

"I know you're upset," Jay said, calm and even. "But this isn't really about the text message, is it?"

"I'm not—" Jungwon started, then cut himself off.

Heeseung tilted his head, watching him carefully. "...You're freaking out."

"I'm not—"

Jay stood up. "You are."

"I'm not—" Jungwon's voice cracked. "I'm not freaking out. I'm just—"

He stopped again.

Because there it was.

The truth, right at the edge of his mouth.

He looked down at his hands, still clenched tight.

"...He called me by mistake."

Jay's expression softened. "Yeah."

"I picked up, and he was scared. And I couldn't—I couldn't even say anything to make it better. He was just spiraling. And I—" Jungwon's jaw tightened. "I know I'm the leader. I know I'm supposed to be calm, and levelheaded, and all that, but—he sounded like he thought he'd been left. Like we just forgot him."

Heeseung's mouth pulled into a line.

"And I hate that," Jungwon said, voice smaller now. "I hate that he thought we'd do that to him."

"You mean," Jay said gently, "you hate that he thought you would."

Jungwon didn't respond.

He didn't need to.

Heeseung ran a hand through his hair, finally muttering, "I messed up."

Jungwon glanced over, and for a second, his eyes flicked to the screen of Heeseung's phone—where a message thread was open.

A familiar name at the top: Hyuna.

That was the real reason Heeseung forgot.

Jungwon looked away.

Jay sighed, stepping in. "Alright. That's enough of this. He's safe. He's home. You handled it. Now go drink water and stop pacing like a drama character."

"I'm not a drama character."

"You're literally monologuing."

Jungwon glared at the older man for a brief second before slipping out of the room.

Jay raised both hands. "Just saying."

The door clicked shut behind him with a soft snick.

The room was quiet. Dim. Faint shadows stretched across the floor from the overcast sky outside.

Jungwon didn't bother turning on the light.

He stood there for a second, just inside the doorway, shoulders still tense from the conversation with Heeseung and Jay.

Then he moved.

Dropped his phone onto his desk. Pulled his hoodie off with one arm. Let it fall onto the bed.

The silence clung to him like a second skin.

He sat down at the edge of his mattress, elbows on his knees, staring down at the floor like it might have answers.

It didn't.

He reached for his phone again.

Unlocked it.

Opened his messages.

Jake's name sat there. Untouched since this morning.

He tapped it.

The last message had been a goofy meme from a couple days ago—Jake had sent it with three crying emojis and no context. Jungwon hadn't even replied.

He stared at the blinking cursor.

Typed something.

are you okay?

Paused.

Deleted it.

Typed again.

did you eat?

Deleted.

i'm sorry about this morning

Deleted.

He let his thumb hover over the keyboard for a long, quiet moment.

There were a thousand things he wanted to say.

’You scared me.
I wanted to run to you.
I would have come even if you didn't call.
I care too much and I don't know how to show it without sounding like I'm crazy.’

But none of those things made it onto the screen.

Not now.

Maybe not ever.

He sighed, locked his phone, and let it fall to the blanket beside him.

Outside, the clouds thickened. The wind shifted.

May 27th, 2025.

He dragged his palm down his face and whispered into the empty room,
"Please let next week be better."

_______

June 27th, 2025 — One Month Later

The dorm was loud again.

Not with laughter, or music, or the usual dumb arguments over shower schedules and stolen snacks.

This was a different kind of noise.
Background chaos.
The sound of dishes being put away too hard. The distant slam of a door. The hum of someone's computer, left on all night again.

Jungwon stood in the kitchen, watching water boil.

He hadn't asked who left the pot there. He just finished it. Like he always did.

The group wasn't falling apart. Not really. But something had... shifted.

People weren't eating together as much.
Sunoo had started spending most nights in his room with headphones on.
Jay had been talking less.
Riki was bouncing between manic energy and long silences.
Heeseung was always texting someone—Jungwon didn't have to guess who.
Sunghoon had been quieter too. More tired. More gone.

And Jake?

Jungwon didn't want to think about Jake yet.

Not when his stomach tightened the moment the name crossed his mind.

He stirred the pot.

Please let next week be better, he'd whispered last month.

He should've prayed harder.

Because nothing was better. It wasn't worse, not on paper—but it felt like everything was duller. The tension had become routine. Nobody said it out loud, but the air was tight with something unsaid.

The timer went off.

He turned off the stove and poured the noodles into the strainer. Steam rose up, clouding his glasses.

Footsteps approached.

He didn't turn around.

Jay's voice broke through the kitchen haze. "You've eaten, right?"

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

Jungwon stirred the pasta again. "Positive."

A pause.

Then, "Jake isn't home yet."

"I know."

"He was with the team. Said he might be late."

"Okay."

Jay didn't say anything else.

Didn't have to.

Jungwon knew what he was trying to say. That the tension wasn't all random. That Jake's been... off lately too. Still smiling. Still hugging. Still him—but not quite.

Jungwon didn't know when he stopped recognizing the difference between Jake's real laugh and his default one.

Maybe he never knew.

Jay eventually left the kitchen.

Jungwon stayed, stirring food he no longer felt like eating, listening to the silence crowd back in.

He stirred the pasta again.

Still didn't feel like eating.

Because even with the food done, and the silence closing back in, his mind was spinning.

This wasn't just stress.

It wasn't just tiredness, or tight schedules, or comeback nerves.

It was deeper.

Quieter.

Like something in them was starting to rust.

Sunoo barely looked up anymore. Jay had been carrying tension in his jaw for weeks. Riki hadn't thrown a shoe across the dorm in two whole days. Even Heeseung's silences weren't funny anymore—they were empty.

And Jake...

Jake was still smiling.

Still cooking breakfast and making dumb jokes and asking if everyone drank enough water.

Jake was still being Jake.

And Jungwon hated that most of all.

Because Jake was the one who cried in a doctor's office lobby. The one who couldn't call the right person when he panicked. The one Jungwon had once held still in the back of a van while his hands shook.

Jake was the one Jungwon hadn't said a single honest thing to in weeks.

He turned off the burner, shoved the pot to the back of the stove, and washed his hands with too much soap.

Then he dried them.

And grabbed his phone.

⸻

The group chat had been quiet all day — just a single sticker from Ni-ki and a vague link to a face wash from Sunoo.

Jungwon opened a new note instead.

A clean page.

He typed at the top:

trip ideas — not stupid

He stared at it.

Then erased the "not stupid."

Then typed:

trip ideas — healing shit

That felt more accurate.

Somewhere calm. Somewhere small. Not too far. Not flashy.

Something that would let them breathe.

He scrolled through possible places in his head.

Jeonju? Too touristy.

Gangwon-do? Maybe, but that's where they filmed last winter and it still smelled like burnt seaweed in his nightmares.

Then it came to him.

A place he hadn't thought about in a long time.

His grandmother used to take him there, years ago, before everything got fast.

A quiet town in Namhae.

Near the coast. Not too busy. Not too rural either. Just—simple. The kind of place with small cafés that closed at eight. Fresh air that tasted like salt. Hills that made you ache but in a good way.

He opened his browser. Started searching.

A small pension. Enough rooms for everyone. Wi-Fi optional.

He sent a few links to their manager. Wrote a short message.

"Can we book this if schedules are light next week? I think the team needs it."

He didn't say we're falling apart.

He didn't say Jake is still smiling and I think it's killing him.

He didn't say I don't know how to lead us through this if I can't fix it.

He just sent the message.

Then closed the tab and dropped his phone onto his bed.

⸻

Two hours later, a reply buzzed in.

"Next Tuesday to Thursday is open. I'll handle the booking. Good call, Jungwon."

He stared at the message for a while.

Then, slowly, he typed into the group chat:

[Jungwon]: free next tuesday-thursday. pack light. we're going somewhere.

[Sunoo]: ????

[Jake]: 😮

[Jay]: where

[Ni-ki]: is it haunted

[Heeseung]: wait we're actually leaving the dorm?

[Jungwon]: yes. no spoilers. yes it's haunted. yes i'll let you fight the ghost.

[Sunghoon]: finally

[Jake]: are you driving the van?

[Jungwon]: god no

[Jay]: thank god

[Jake]: 😞

The chat started to light up after that.

Riki sent memes. Sunoo sent four rapid-fire outfit polls. Jay said he'd pack sunscreen for everyone "since none of you are responsible." Even Heeseung — who hadn't replied to anything all day — sent a rare emoji: 😌

It wasn't much.

But it felt like something.

A pulse.

A beat.

A reminder.

Jungwon stared at the screen, watching the chaos spill down the chat, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Maybe he didn't know how to fix everything.

Maybe they were still tired. Still too quiet. Still stretched thin.

But for the first time in weeks, they were talking.

Together.

Jungwon leaned back against his headboard, pulling his hoodie tighter around his shoulders as the light outside dimmed further.

And for the first time in a long while—

He felt like a leader again.

Not a perfect one.

Not an invincible one.

But their one.

And that was enough.

The next night, after practice, he didn't go straight to his room.

He lingered.

Waited until Jay was the last one brushing his teeth.

"Hyung," Jungwon said softly, towel slung around his neck.

Jay raised a brow in the mirror. "What?"

"If we had one day off," Jungwon asked, voice casual, "and no press, no cameras — where would you go?"

Jay blinked at him, toothbrush hanging mid-air. "What?"

"Just wondering."

Jay rinsed and wiped his mouth, studying him now. "...What are you planning?"

Jungwon shrugged. "Something stupid. Maybe something good."

Jay didn't press. He just said, "I'd go somewhere quiet. Cold air, clean sky. No signal."

Jungwon nodded. "Got it."

Jay narrowed his eyes. "Wait—"

But Jungwon was already out the door.

⸻

The next morning, he caught Riki on the couch — tangled in blankets and mid-game on his Switch.

"Hey," Jungwon said, plopping down beside him.

Riki groaned. "If this is about the socks I left in the sink—"

"It's not."

"Oh. Okay." He kept tapping buttons.

Jungwon leaned back. "Wanna go somewhere next week?"

Riki paused the game. "Like, where?"

"Not far. Somewhere we can breathe. Stretch out."

Riki tilted his head. "Can we eat meat?"

"Yes."

"Can I bring the Switch?"

"No."

"Lame. I'm in."

Jungwon smirked.

⸻

By Wednesday, he'd pulled Sunoo aside while folding laundry.

"We haven't had time off in a while," Jungwon said, careful with his tone.

Sunoo didn't look up. "We don't have time off next week."

"We could. I'm talking to management."

Sunoo paused, a pair of Jay's socks in his hand. "Why?"

Jungwon hesitated.

Then said, "Because we're not okay. And I don't want to wait until one of us breaks."

Sunoo didn't respond right away.

Then he quietly nodded. "I want to see the ocean."

Jungwon reached for another towel. "I'll find one."

⸻

Thursday night, he knocked on Sunghoon's door.

It opened halfway, the room dim. Sunghoon looked tired.

Jungwon just said, "Next week. I want to take you all somewhere. One day. No pressure. Just air."

Sunghoon stared for a moment.

Then — softly — "Will there be room to skate?"

Jungwon raised an eyebrow. "You wanna bring your skates?"

Sunghoon smirked faintly. "Might."

Jungwon smiled back. "I'll look."

⸻

Friday afternoon, Heeseung finally looked up from his phone long enough to say, "So I heard from Jay. You're dragging us out into the wilderness."

"Not wilderness," Jungwon replied, tying his shoelaces. "Just a lake. Trees. Some space."

Heeseung arched a brow. "Trying to fix us with pine needles?"

"I'm trying," Jungwon said quietly, "to give us a second to breathe."

Heeseung was quiet.

Then: "Can I bring Hyuna?"

Jungwon blinked. Then, a small smile. "Only if she doesn't out-fish you."

"She will," Heeseung muttered.

Jungwon laughed.

⸻

He saved Jake for last.

Not because he didn't want to ask.

But because he didn't trust himself not to ask for too much.

Jake had been... Jake.

Smiling. Helpful. Present.

But Jungwon knew the difference now. He knew what it looked like when Jake was pretending. He knew how heavy those silences were after the laughter ended.

He waited until Saturday night.

Jake was on the floor in the living room, legs sprawled, scrolling something on his phone with his head leaning against the couch.

Jungwon sat beside him, close enough to feel the warmth but not touch.

"Hey," he said.

Jake looked up, a little surprised. "Hey."

Jungwon stared at the ceiling. "I'm planning a day trip. Next week."

Jake blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah. Something simple. Fresh air. No cameras. Just us."

Jake tilted his head. "That's rare."

"That's why I'm doing it."

Jake's gaze softened.

"And I want you to come," Jungwon said, quietly now.

Jake smiled — small, tired. "I'd like that."

A pause.

Then Jungwon added, "You don't have to pretend to have fun."

Jake turned toward him fully. "What?"

"I'll still be glad you came. Even if you're quiet. Even if it's not perfect."

Jake looked at him for a long moment.

Then nodded.

"Okay," he whispered.

Jungwon smiled. "Okay."

⸻

By Sunday night, the plan was in motion.

Vans booked. Food prepped. A single day carved out of chaos.

Jungwon didn't know if it would fix anything.

But at least they wouldn't be breaking alone.

At least he'd tried.

He sat at the table that night, long after everyone had gone to bed, notebook open.

The page said:

Packing List
• jackets
• chargers
• sunblock
• meat
• extra water
• portable speaker (Jay)
• fishing pole (Heeseung, maybe)
• Riki's dumb towel cape

He stared at the final line.

Then, underneath it, added one more:

Hope.

Then he closed the notebook, leaned back, and let the quiet sit beside him.

This time, it didn't feel so heavy.

The dorm was never quiet in the morning. Not really.

Even when no one was speaking, the sound of motion filled every corner — the drag of feet across hardwood, the clatter of drawers, the occasional muttered curse as someone tripped over someone else's bag.

Today was no different. But the energy was... softer.

Sleepy. Groggy. Tinged with something like curiosity.

They were going somewhere.

Jungwon stood at the kitchen counter, organizing a ziplock bag full of portable snacks. Jay was already dressed, hoodie half-zipped and hair still damp. He poured himself coffee like he was on autopilot.

"You packed Riki's weird cape?" Jay asked without looking up.

Jungwon didn't even pause. "Top of his duffel."

Jay hummed in approval. "He'd riot if you forgot."

From down the hall: "I HEARD THAT!"

Sunoo appeared next, wrapped in a cream cardigan that clearly wasn't his.

He beelined for the bananas on the counter. "What time's the van?"

"Half hour," Jungwon said.

Sunoo yawned. "Is Heeseung awake?"

"I texted him."

"...So no."

Jungwon didn't reply.

⸻

6:27 AM
Heeseung emerged from his room with sunglasses and a water bottle and exactly zero shame.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow. "You're wearing slides?"

Heeseung shrugged. "We're going to the woods, not Milan."

Jay muttered, "Tell that to Sunoo's cardigan."

"Hey," Sunoo snapped. "This is vintage."

From the hallway, Sunghoon appeared like a ghost — already fully dressed, hair neatly parted, headphones in.

"Did you sleep?" Jungwon asked.

Sunghoon offered a vague shrug and a thumbs-up, then wandered over to help Riki drag his duffel into the living room.

"I brought my skates," Sunghoon added, like it was a normal sentence.

Jungwon blinked. "For the woods?"

"You said there was a road nearby."

Jungwon blinked again. "I... yeah, okay."

⸻

6:41 AM
Jake still hadn't come out of his room.

Jungwon checked his watch.

Checked the time again.

Then quietly slipped down the hall.

The door wasn't locked.

He knocked once. "Jake?"

Soft rustling inside.

A pause.

Then: "I'm up."

Jungwon hesitated, hand resting on the doorframe. "You sure?"

"Yeah," Jake said again, voice muffled. "Just—gimme two minutes."

Jungwon didn't push.

He waited.

⸻

6:47 AM
Everyone was gathered in the front room.

Bags packed. Shoes on. Heeseung holding a thermos of something suspiciously green.

Jay ran a final checklist. "Phones charged. IDs packed. Emergency snacks?"

"I have gummy bears," Sunoo offered.

"Real snacks."

"I have Jay's gummy bears," Sunoo clarified.

Jay gave him a look.

Jungwon turned as Jake finally padded into the room, hoodie tugged over his head, eyes still a little unfocused.

He didn't say anything.

But when Jungwon handed him a granola bar, he took it.

That was enough.

⸻

6:53 AM
The van pulled up outside.

Black. Clean. Quiet engine.

The kind of rental they'd taken to shoots and rehearsals and music shows.

But this time, the destination wasn't work.

This time, it was theirs.

The door opened with a low clack.

Jungwon herded them in by habit — youngest to oldest, bags in the back, Sunghoon's skates somehow wedged under the last row of seats.

When he finally climbed in, Jay was already buckling up.

Heeseung had passed out in the second row with his hood up.

Sunoo and Riki were sharing AirPods and arguing about playlist order.

Jake sat by the window, head leaned against the glass, eyes half-lidded but open.

And Sunghoon, ever quiet, had pulled out a book Jungwon didn't even know he brought.

For a moment, the van was still.

The engine purred.

The sky was pale blue and cloudless.

Jungwon exhaled — not a sigh, not quite — and finally let his shoulders relax.

He didn't know what the day would hold.

But for the first time in a long while, it didn't feel like they were just surviving.

They were moving.

Together.

That had to count for something.

Chapter Text

The van rolled to a stop on a gravel path that crunched softly under the tires.

Jake didn’t move at first.

He blinked, slow and tired, forehead resting against the cool window. The world outside looked like it had been scrubbed clean — trees tall and green and whispering against one another, sunlight cutting through the branches like it wanted to be noticed.

There was air here. Real air. Crisp and sharp, even in summer.

And there was space. So much of it.

Not the kind that echoed or pressed in from all sides — but the kind that made his chest hurt a little. That reminded him how small they were.

He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t need to.

Because just then, the van door slid open with a mechanical groan, and Sunghoon leaned over him to get a better look outside.

“…Holy shit,” Sunghoon muttered.

Jake turned, raising a brow. “You like it?”

“There’s a fucking ice rink,” Sunghoon breathed. “Ten minutes down the road. I saw the sign.”

Of course he did.

Jake let out a soft, tired laugh. “We’re in the middle of the woods and you’re tracking rinks?”

Sunghoon grinned like a kid. “Gotta stay sharp.”

“Of course.”

Jay was the first to climb out. Then Jungwon.

Jake watched as the others filtered out — Riki bouncing too fast and Sunoo trying to calm him down while dragging two duffel bags at once. Heeseung emerged last, yawning into the sleeve of a hoodie that didn’t belong to him.

The quiet hit them almost immediately.

No horns. No buzz. No building hum of city life.

Just the trees. The gravel. The faint rush of wind.

Jake stepped out slowly.

The cabin was tucked between two slopes, slightly elevated and sprawling — with soft wood siding, a huge wraparound porch, and windows that caught the light just right. Like it had been waiting for them.

“Damn,” Sunoo said, spinning in a lazy circle. “Did we win the lottery?”

“No,” Jay replied. “We work too much and our managers felt guilty.”

Jake smiled faintly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

The air smelled like pine and earth and the leftover bite of morning chill. He could hear the crackle of leaves beneath someone’s boots, the squeak of a door being tested on its hinges, and the unmistakable sound of Riki already exploring something he shouldn’t.

“Be careful,” Jungwon called.

“I am being careful!” Riki shouted.

Then: a thud.

Jake sighed. “He’s gonna break something.”

“Hopefully not himself,” Jungwon murmured, walking past.

Jake almost said something then. Do you like it? Are you okay? Do you want to walk around a little?

But instead, he just followed a few paces behind.

The cabin interior was even bigger than it looked — warm and open, with a living space that spilled into a massive kitchen, and a staircase that led to a lofted second floor. Wood beams stretched overhead, and a firepit sat unused in the center of the sitting area, surrounded by deep leather couches.

Their bags were brought in. Rooms were claimed. Jay took the one near the stairs. Riki and Sunoo claimed the loft. Heeseung disappeared into the far corner suite with a muttered “dibs,” and Sunghoon drifted toward the back where he could hear running water.

Jake didn’t ask to share with anyone. And no one offered.

That was fine.

He found a smaller room by the porch and dropped his duffel by the bed. The mattress dipped like a sigh under his weight, and the view outside his window caught his attention — trees swaying, sun glinting through green, and just beyond the horizon, the glint of what could only be the roof of the ice rink.

Sunghoon was going to drag him there. No question.

He closed his eyes for a moment.

It was… calm.

Too calm.

He got up before it could settle too deep into his skin.

Back in the kitchen, Jungwon was loading groceries into the fridge.

Jake hovered in the doorway.

“You took the room by the porch?” Jungwon asked, without looking up.

Jake nodded, then realized Jungwon couldn’t see that. “Yeah.”

A pause.

Then: “Good. It’s quiet there.”

Jake nodded again. “Yeah.”

More silence.

He didn’t know how to ask can we go for a walk, or will you sit with me for a minute, or even just stay.

So instead, he opened the cabinet next to Jungwon’s head and took out a mug.

“Do you think the coffee machine works?” he asked.

“I hope not,” Jungwon said, “because Heeseung already started it.”

Jake turned to look — and yep. Heeseung was on the couch with Sunoo, nursing a steaming mug like it was his third of the day.

Jake smiled again, small.

And for the first time since waking up, it felt like maybe this wasn’t going to be so hard after all.

The air was colder here. Not freezing—but fresh. Still. Silent. Jake couldn’t remember the last time he felt this kind of quiet. Real quiet. The kind that didn’t beg to be filled with someone else’s voice. No schedules. No pressure. Just the soft shuffle of their luggage wheels rolling across gravel and the muted laughs of the members as they stepped into the unfamiliar.

He let his gaze wander as they pulled up to the lodge—low wood-paneled walls, big windows with white trim, snow-dusted pines that stretched toward a blue-gray sky. There was a small trail off to the left and a thin stream of smoke curling from the chimney. And past it all, nestled between some hills, was what made his breath catch.

An ice rink. Open-air. Empty.
He could feel Sunghoon’s eyes lighting up behind him.

Jake barely had time to register his own grin before he was being dragged forward—everyone shuffling through the front door with loud excitement. Bags dropped, doors opened, laughter echoing against the cabin walls as they raced to claim their rooms.

“Mine!” Sunoo shouted, flinging himself onto one of the twin beds in the room he shared with Ni-ki.

“No way, we’re sharing!” Heeseung barked from the hallway.

“Too late!” Sunoo rolled to the edge dramatically. “Ni-ki’s mine now!”

Jake chuckled, half-distracted. The noise was comforting. Familiar. A far cry from the tension that had been weighing down the dorm. He wandered through the lodge, running his fingers along the old wooden bannister, peeking into each room. Jay was already organizing the kitchen. Jungwon was checking the thermostat and boiler. Typical.

But something made him pause by the shared living space. It was Ni-ki, sitting alone at the edge of the couch, hood still up, phone untouched in his hands. The usual spark in his eyes had dimmed. Jake tilted his head.

“Hey,” he said, kneeling beside him. “You good?”

Ni-ki blinked, startled, then shrugged. “Yeah.”

It was a lie. Not a convincing one.

Jake didn’t push. He just nodded and said, “Wanna come to the corner store with me? I heard there’s one like a five-minute walk from here. We can grab some snacks for tonight.”

Ni-ki hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Okay.”

—
The cold air bit at their cheeks as they walked down the sloped path leading toward the village strip. It wasn’t snowing, but everything was blanketed in soft white. Their boots crunched through the snow as the sky turned a soft lavender shade, the streetlamps flickering on one by one.

Jake didn’t ask anything. He just let the silence stretch between them comfortably, occasionally pointing things out—a snow-covered bench, a cat sleeping in the window of a closed shop, the faint music drifting from one of the cafés.

“You ever think about disappearing?” Ni-ki asked suddenly.

Jake blinked. “Disappearing?”

“Not forever. Just like… being a regular person for a bit. No cameras. No expectations.”

Jake swallowed. “Yeah. I think about that a lot lately.”

Ni-ki nodded, like he expected that answer. “You always look like you’re carrying everyone’s bags, even when your hands are empty.”

Jake smiled faintly. “Guess I’m just good at pretending.”

Ni-ki didn’t answer, but the quiet felt different now. He walked closer to Jake as they reached the store. The lights inside were warm, buzzing overhead as they stepped in and took in the shelves stacked with instant noodles, candies, drinks, and a tiny freezer section with ice cream bars.

Ni-ki grabbed one immediately. “Sunoo’s gonna be mad I didn’t bring him one.”

“Grab him one, then,” Jake said, tossing it into the basket.

They left with two bags full of snacks, and Jake noticed that Ni-ki looked lighter now. Not fixed, but… seen. Heard. Maybe that was all he needed for today.

Maybe that was all Jake needed too.

The walk back was quieter—still cold, still crisp—but lighter somehow. Ni-ki kicked a rock along the path while Jake carried the snacks in one bag, the other tucked under his jacket like contraband.

“You’re gonna have to run distraction,” Jake muttered.

“Me?” Ni-ki raised a brow.

“You’re the stealthiest one. You once snuck out an entire box of pizza from a fan gift table.”

“That was survival,” Ni-ki replied flatly. “This is war. Jungwon has ears in the walls.”

Jake didn’t disagree.

By the time the lodge came into view—cozy and warm, light spilling out the front windows like honey—they were already plotting. Jake crouched a little, adjusting the bags under his arm like he was on some black-ops mission. Ni-ki pulled his hood up further, eyes narrowed in concentration.

“Okay. You go in first,” Jake whispered. “Check if the coast is clear. If Jungwon’s in the kitchen, fake a cramp. Collapse if you have to.”

Ni-ki deadpanned. “You’ve been watching too many spy dramas.”

“Shut up and go,” Jake hissed.

—
They slipped through the door like thieves, boots kicked off with precision, breath held. The air inside smelled like heat and pinewood and someone’s lavender lotion. No footsteps. No voices.

Ni-ki tiptoed toward the hallway—peeked his head in. His eyes widened. He turned to Jake and held up one single finger: he’s in the kitchen.

Jake cursed internally. Of course he was. Jungwon and his natural habitat.

But just as Ni-ki opened his mouth to begin his fainting act, something… shifted.

Jungwon turned his head slightly, glanced up from the fridge where he was reorganizing ingredients. His gaze met Jake’s directly—even across the room, he locked in like a hawk.

Jake froze mid-step.

Shit.

But then Jungwon just… nodded.

Not a warning. Not a scowl. Not even an eyebrow twitch. Just a calm, blink-slow nod like, Welcome back. I see you. Go ahead.

Jake blinked. Once. Twice.
What?

Ni-ki whispered behind him, “Did we just survive?”

“I—I think we did.”

They exchanged a silent look of confusion and disbelief, like two criminals who accidentally walked past a guard without being noticed. No scolding. No lecture. No “you two were supposed to do groceries first.” Not even a raised voice.

They padded up the stairs in a daze, holding their snack bags like guilty trophies.

Once inside their room, Ni-ki finally whispered, “Why didn’t we get scolded?”

Jake stared into space. “I don’t know. I always get scolded.”

“Maybe…” Ni-ki trailed off. “Maybe he didn’t want to.”

Jake tilted his head. “…Maybe he’s tired.”

Or maybe… maybe he knew. Maybe Jungwon saw Ni-ki’s quiet earlier. Maybe he knew Jake wasn’t just running off to avoid chores. Maybe this was one of those unspoken passes. One of those rare moments where the leader didn’t have to say “I see you,” because you already felt it.

Or maybe Jungwon was saving the scolding for later. Jake wouldn’t put it past him.

Either way, they weren’t going to question it too hard. Jake handed Ni-ki a bag of chips, and they fell into the soft lull of crinkling wrappers and half-mumbled TV dialogue as the snow outside began to fall again, soft and silent.

The peace didn’t last forever.

Eventually, the group realized they couldn’t survive off corner store snacks and vibes. The kitchen—while stocked with some essentials—was still missing the real stuff: protein, fresh produce, actual ingredients for meals, not just chips and candy and the half-melted popsicles Ni-ki had insisted on getting.

It was nearing early evening when the call was made. Grocery run. Real one. No detours, no junk. Just business.

But when Jake came downstairs, grabbing his jacket and running a hand through his hair, he paused in the living room doorway.

Ni-ki was dead asleep on the couch.

Like fully asleep—hood up, arms crossed, one leg dangling off the cushion, mouth barely open in the softest little huhh sound every few breaths. His lashes were long against his cheeks, his fingers curled slightly inwards like he’d drifted off mid-thought.

Jake smiled despite himself.

He turned back toward the hallway, voice lowered. “Hey. He’s out cold.”

Sunoo peeked over from the dining room table, where he was scrolling through his phone. “I’ll stay with him.”

Jake blinked. “You sure?”

Sunoo rolled his eyes, but there was something light about it. “It’s not like I’m doing anything important. Besides…” He glanced back toward the living room. “…he’s cute when he sleeps.”

Jake definitely didn’t comment on that, but his grin widened.

“You two are freaks,” he muttered affectionately as he zipped his jacket and headed for the door.

Sunoo just hummed. “And you’re late for groceries.”

—

The car ride was quiet for a bit, snow beginning to drizzle again across the windshield. Jungwon was behind the wheel, posture relaxed, eyes on the road. Jake sat in the passenger seat, scrolling through a list on his phone.

They passed a convenience store and Jake snuck a glance out the window, thinking of the snacks hidden in the corner of their room. Maybe Jungwon had forgotten.

Spoiler: he hadn’t.

“So,” Jungwon said casually. “The chips.”

Jake coughed. “What chips?”

“The ones you snuck in.”

Jake winced. “You did know.”

“I always know.”

Jungwon didn’t sound mad. Not even close. In fact, he sounded… amused.

“But you didn’t say anything,” Jake pointed out slowly.

Jungwon gave a small shrug. “Didn’t feel like it.”

Jake waited, but no further explanation came. Just silence. The windshield wipers clicked back and forth like a metronome.

“…Are you mad?” Jake asked finally.

“No.”

“…Disappointed?”

Jungwon cracked a small smile. “Jake. You took Ni-ki out when he wasn’t feeling great. I’m not going to punish you for that. Even if it was the stupidest selection of snacks I’ve ever seen.”

Jake opened his mouth to protest.

“—And before you say it, yes, I know the popsicles were his idea.”

Jake slouched in the seat, defeated. “I really thought we got away with it.”

“You never get away with anything,” Jungwon said, barely holding back a laugh. “But sometimes I let it slide.”

Jake paused, eyes drifting to the side mirror. Snow collecting slowly on the frame. His chest a little warm despite the chill outside.

“You’re a good leader, you know that?” he muttered.

Jungwon just snorted. “You say that now. Wait ‘til I make you carry all the bags.”

Jake made a soft exasperated noise at that as they continued to drive off.

The grocery trip should have been simple.

Should have been in and out, shopping list checked off, maybe a few complaints about prices, then back home to cook.

But of course, that’s not how it went.

Because barely ten minutes into their aisle sweep, Jake and Jay had started bickering. Not even fighting—bickering, like a married couple who couldn’t agree on what counted as a necessity.

“You don’t need three different types of cereal,” Jay insisted, dragging the cart along with growing frustration.

Jake walked backwards beside him, gesturing animatedly. “Okay but we don’t know which one Ni-ki likes best and I am not risking him giving me that ‘you failed me’ look again.”

Jay scoffed. “You’re projecting.”

“I am not—have you seen that kid’s face when he’s disappointed? It’s soul-crushing.”

Meanwhile, Jungwon stood at the end of the aisle with the actual shopping list, quietly losing his will to live. He pinched the bridge of his nose as the two bickered their way past the oatmeal section.

“You know what, fine,” Jay huffed, shoving one of the cereal boxes into the cart with slightly too much force. “Let’s get all three. Let’s spoil him until he’s a little monster who thinks the world revolves around him.”

Jake gave a sarcastic bow. “Your generosity is unmatched.”

Sunghoon, a few feet behind them, reached for a loaf of bread and sighed. “Are you two done flirting or should we loop back around and do it again?”

That earned a sharp side-eye from Jay and a smug grin from Jake.

“I was being helpful,” Jake said.

“You were being loud,” Sunghoon replied flatly.

Jungwon finally stepped in, wedging himself between all three of them like a human ceasefire. “Okay, enough. Jake, Jay, split up—Jay go get protein, Jake go with Sunghoon and check for household stuff. If either of you returns with more snacks, I swear to god—”

“I was just about to say that,” Jake muttered, rolling the cart in Sunghoon’s direction.

“I was literally going there already,” Jay added with a scowl.

“Then go,” Jungwon snapped, waving his hand like a tired camp counselor trying to wrangle middle schoolers on a field trip.

That left Heeseung, who up until now had been trailing a few steps behind everyone else.

Not shopping. Not helping.

On the phone.

“…Yeah, and he was making this face like I personally killed his cat,” Heeseung said, voice low and amused as he paced beside the juice fridge. “No, like the one where he does the little—yeah, that one.”

There was a pause, then a soft laugh from Heeseung.

“Okay but you would’ve lost it too if you were there. I almost broke character. I had to bite my tongue.”

Another pause.

“No, you hang up. No, for real. I’m in public, people are looking.”

Jungwon turned around in the middle of comparing salad dressings and deadpanned, “Who are you talking to.”

Heeseung grinned.

Didn’t even try to lie.

“Hyuna.”

Jungwon stared at him.

Heeseung just shrugged one shoulder, unapologetic. “We’re kind of past the secret part, I think.”

“You think?”

“I told her about the cereal thing. She thinks Jay’s in love with Jake.”

Jungwon threw a bottle of ranch into the cart and walked away.

“Was it something I said?” Heeseung asked nobody in particular, then turned his head and—still on the phone—murmured, “No, babe, not you. That was to Jungwon. He’s being dramatic.”

And just like that, the mother of six kids wandered off down the condiment aisle with murder in his eyes.

Jungwon should’ve known peace was temporary.

One moment, he was comparing apples in the produce section, finally accompanied by a reasonably quiet Jake, and the next—chaos.

It started when someone tapped his shoulder.

He turned, half-expecting to see one of his own members asking him where the sesame oil was again. Instead, he saw two girls standing there, eyes wide and clearly trying to act calm. But their hands were shaking slightly, one of them gripping her phone like it might fly out of her hand if she didn’t hold on tight.

“Uh—Hi,” one of them said nervously. “Are you…Yang Jungwon?”

Jungwon blinked.

Heeseung stepped up beside him at that exact moment, glancing at the girls over Jungwon’s shoulder. His expression was calm, unreadable.

Jungwon gave the girls a polite smile, internally bracing himself.

“Yeah,” he said gently. “That’s me.”

They looked like they were about to combust.

“O-oh my god—we love you guys so much, sorry—sorry to bother you—!”

“Wait, are the others here too?!”

Jungwon almost lied.

Almost.

But then—

“hey, this isn’t realy a good place to talk about this,” Heeseung said smoothly, subtly nudging Jungwon’s back with a protective hand as he leaned forward just enough to block the girls’ view of the rest of the store. “We’re just doing some shopping today, okay? Please keep it low.”

The girls nodded, visibly trying to keep it together. One of them gave a flustered thumbs up.

“We won’t tell anyone,” she whispered, practically vibrating. “Swear!”

Jungwon nodded with a small, grateful bow. “Thank you. Seriously.”

As they walked off, Heeseung kept his hand at Jungwon’s back, voice low. “They were nice. You okay?”

Jungwon exhaled. “Yeah. Just…we were supposed to be lowkey today.”

Heeseung tilted his head. “We were.”

Then, as if summoned by the universe to prove him wrong, Jungwon turned the corner and saw:

Jake. Sunghoon. Jay. All huddled in front of the refrigerated section like they were plotting something.

They were speaking in low voices, animated but clearly trying to keep it quiet, which made them look exactly like three suspicious men about to rob the store. Jake even glanced around like he was making sure no one was watching.

“Oh my god,” Jungwon muttered.

Heeseung chuckled behind him. “They look guilty.”

“They are guilty,” Jungwon said, already marching over.

Jake was the first to see him coming. His smile went tight.

“Heyyy, hyung and Wonnie! We were just, uh—”

“No.” Jungwon raised a hand. “Whatever this is, no.”

Jay blinked. “We didn’t even say what it was yet.”

“I don’t need to know. Jake, you’re with me. Jay, go back with Heeseung. Sunghoon, stay still and try not to set anything on fire.”

Sunghoon blinked slowly, a single canned drink in his hand. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Exactly,” Jungwon deadpanned. “Let’s keep it that way.”

He shoved the shopping cart toward Jake, turned around—and got hit with a new notification.

From: Sunoo

me and ni-ki took a walk
accidentally ran into some fans
everything’s fine don’t freak out!!!
ni-ki even gave someone a peace sign it was insane
brb probably gonna buy ice cream

Jungwon stopped walking.

Stared at the screen.

Took a deep breath.

Then glanced upward like he was begging whatever deity might be listening.

Heeseung stepped beside him again, sipping from a canned coffee that hadn’t been in his hand five seconds ago.

“What now?” he asked casually.

Jungwon held the phone out.

Heeseung read the message and laughed. “Ni-ki? Ice cream? With fans? Wow. That’s a plot twist.”

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

Jungwon wanted to scream.

But instead, he took the cart from Jake, started pushing it toward checkout, and muttered, “I’m getting a raise for this. I swear to god. I’m getting a raise or a vacation. Or at least a new phone with a block button that works.”

Behind him, Jake whispered something to Heeseung, Sunghoon wandered off again, and Jay rejoined like nothing happened at all.

And just like that, Jungwon became a mother of six again—except now one of the kids had a Hyuna-shaped secret girlfriend, another had fans mid-walk, and the rest were probably planning mutiny.

God help him.

Chapter Text

It was the first real calm they’d had in a while.

Dinner was a mix of too much food and not enough clean dishes. Jay cooked. Jungwon tried to help but ended up mostly stirring things and checking the rice. Jake set the table while Heeseung danced with a spatula and Sunghoon argued with Ni-ki over what counted as “an acceptable side dish.”
(No, kimchi on everything was not a personality.)

Sunoo put on music. Something light. Chill. It made everything feel a little softer, like even their stress had agreed to take the night off.

Jake laughed. For real this time. No filter. No weight behind it. Just easy, natural laughter at Ni-ki accidentally burning the toast and still trying to serve it like it was edible. (“It’s charcoal-core,” Ni-ki insisted. “It’s art.”)

After dinner came the games—board games, card games, whatever they could dig out of the old cabinet near the TV. Jake swore someone had cheated in Uno (probably Jay) and Sunghoon had somehow managed to beat everyone in Jenga without saying a single word the whole time.

Heeseung, unsurprisingly, disappeared halfway through the second round of charades.
“Bathroom,” he’d said.
“Texting Hyuna,” Jungwon muttered.

They didn’t press it.

Eventually, as the games fizzled out and the group trickled off—some to their rooms, some to the porch for air, and one (Ni-ki) to fight the couch for dominance—Jake ended up in the kitchen alone, cleaning quietly.

The house was still. Comfortable. Safe.

Until—

“Hey,” came a voice from behind him.
Soft. Barely there.

Jake turned, drying his hands with a dish towel.
Sunghoon stood in the doorway. Barefoot, hoodie on, water bottle in hand. He looked like he’d been sitting with something for a while.

“You good?” Jake asked gently.

Sunghoon didn’t answer right away. Just walked over and leaned against the counter beside him.

There was a pause.

And then—

“I’ve been feeling kind of… off.”

Jake blinked. Turned fully now.

Sunghoon didn’t look at him. Just stared at the tile floor.

“I dunno what it is,” he went on, voice low. “Everything’s fine. It’s all fine. But I feel like I’m somewhere else lately. Even when we’re laughing. Even when I’m talking. I feel like I’m only halfway in the room.”

Jake’s stomach pulled tight.

He didn’t interrupt.

Sunghoon exhaled. “I didn’t want to say anything. Because I didn’t think it mattered. Or like… maybe I didn’t deserve to be the one feeling like this. But it’s been hard to sleep. Hard to focus. I get tired just thinking about being around people, and that’s never been me.”

He finally glanced up.

And Jake… God.

Jake looked at him the way no one else did. Not with pity. Not with confusion. Just—understanding. Quiet, steady understanding.

“You’re not alone,” Jake said, softly. “And you don’t need a reason to feel that way.”

Sunghoon’s throat bobbed. “I just didn’t know who to tell.”

Jake offered a small, tired smile. “Now you’ve told me.”

They stood there like that for a bit.

No pressure. No solutions. Just presence.

And it was enough. For now.

Sunghoon eventually mumbled something about needing a shower and shuffled off.

Jake didn’t stop him.

He leaned back against the counter after he left, gripping the edge like it might keep him from slipping.

This wasn’t new. He’d been here before. Holding space. Swallowing his own mess to carry someone else’s.

It never got easier.

But he was Jake.

So he’d do it anyway.

Because that’s what you do when you love people.

Even if it burns a little more each time.

Jake woke up feeling… lighter.

It wasn’t that anything had changed, exactly. The trip was still a break from the tension back home, Sunghoon was still Sunghoon (read: elusive, low-key feral, beautiful in a way that felt illegal before 10 a.m.), and Jungwon was probably already three tasks deep into a to-do list no one had asked for.

But something was different. Subtle.

He stood in the kitchen, spooning instant coffee into a chipped mug while half-listening to the sounds of a morning slowly forming: Jay muttering to himself over eggs, Ni-ki zombie-shuffling past in mismatched socks, Sunoo yelling something from the bathroom about his toothpaste being a sacred object of personal property.

Jake smiled to himself. Then sipped his coffee and immediately regretted it. Too hot. Burned tongue. Classic.

He was just about to reach for a pan—because breakfast didn’t cook itself and Jay’s eggs were historically underwhelming—when he felt a sudden presence behind him. Then—

Pat.

Right on the head.

Like a blessing. Or a curse. Or both.

Jake froze.

Jungwon, already halfway to the fridge, didn’t even look back. “Good job,” he said casually.

That was it.

That was all he said.

Jake just stood there, blinking at the countertop like it might explain what the hell just happened.

What did he do to earn a Jungwon Head Pat™? They weren’t that rare, but they meant something. A silent stamp of approval. A psychic “I saw what you did and I’m proud of you.”

Except… what did he do?

He glanced across the room.

Sunghoon was sitting quietly at the table, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands, eyes still puffy from sleep. He looked calm. Not brooding. Not detached. Just present.

Jake looked back down at his coffee, suddenly feeling full in a way food couldn’t touch.

So that’s what it was about.

Somehow, Jungwon knew.

Of course he knew.

Jake made a mental note to write it down later.

June 28th, 2025: Head pat from Jungwon. I think he knows. Don’t cry about it.

Sunghoon glanced up at him briefly. Nodded once.

Jake smiled. Just a little. Just enough to say same.

There had been a time when Sunghoon scared the crap out of Jake.

Back in I-LAND—God, what a fever dream—Jake had blanked during a choreography review. One beat off. Just one. But in idol training, that was enough to feel like a full-blown disaster.

Sunghoon had pulled him aside after, cool and clinical.
“Try harder,” he’d said.
Not unkind, but not exactly encouraging either.

Jake, fresh off a mini spiral, had almost cried.

Only later, after collapsing into his bunk, did he realize that was Sunghoon-speak for:
You have potential. Don’t waste it.

It took a while to decode the rest. The way Sunghoon asked if he was hungry without making it a question. The way he’d hover nearby on hard days. The quiet shoulder nudges during practice, or the way he’d fix Jake’s collar before a shoot without a word.

Jake had fallen into friendship fast. Too fast. Like diving headfirst into cold water and hoping for the best.

Sunghoon?
He’d fallen slower. Quieter. But deeper.

And now, here they were.

Jake frying spam. Sunghoon sneaking a grape from the counter like it was a crime. Jungwon patting heads like he was knighting them into emotional stability.

It wasn’t perfect.

But damn, it was good.

Jake wasn’t snooping.

Okay—maybe a little.

But in his defense, he’d gone outside to grab his phone charger from the van, not to overhear Heeseung having what was definitely not a casual conversation.

The second Jake stepped around the side of the car, he froze.

Heeseung was standing there, half-hidden behind the trunk, speaking quietly into his phone with the kind of intensity Jake usually associated with award nominations or… confessions.

“I told you I’d ask,” Heeseung was saying. “No, they won’t care. They’ll deal. Yeah, I miss you too.”

Jake’s eyes went wide.

Oh.

OH.

He backed up fast, nearly tripping over a stray shoe someone had left by the door. (Ni-ki’s, probably. The kid had no sense of order.)

Heeseung didn’t notice. He was too deep in whatever whispered conversation he was having—half laugh, half sigh, all the emotional chaos of a man absolutely whipped.

Jake shut the door to the house behind him as quietly as he could and leaned against it, brain spiraling.

Heeseung was inviting Hyuna over. Probably. Definitely.

They were so screwed.

—

“Why do you look like you just saw a ghost?” Sunghoon asked, hoodie already on, keys in hand.

Jake shook his head quickly. “No ghost. Just… a relationship with severe consequences.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Sunghoon didn’t question it further—just shoved a beanie onto Jake’s head and said, “Let’s go.”

—

The rink was quieter than Jake expected. Not empty, but peaceful. A few other skaters gliding around like they lived here, and honestly, some of them might have.

Sunghoon looked like he belonged here. Obviously. His whole aura changed the second they stepped into the cold. He moved like he’d been born on ice—fluid, elegant, just this side of smug.

Jake? Jake moved like a newly born deer.

“Just try not to fall and I won’t laugh,” Sunghoon offered generously.

Jake gave him a dry look. “I’ve seen you fall during practice before.”

“Yeah, but I looked hot doing it.”

Fair.

They laced up in silence, the air biting but refreshing, the kind of cold that woke your soul up and reminded you you were alive.

Jake stepped onto the ice and immediately gripped the rail.

“Okay, first of all—why is this wet glass? Who decided—”

Sunghoon snorted. “You’ll get used to it.”

Jake didn’t. Not really. But Sunghoon held his hand once when he almost slipped, and that kind of made up for it.

For a while, they didn’t talk. They just moved—or tried to—around the rink, side by side, falling into the easy rhythm of people who’d spent years learning how to exist near each other without explanation.

Eventually, Sunghoon broke the silence.

“You looked weird earlier,” he said.

Jake blinked. “Thanks?”

“No. Like—worried.”

Jake shrugged, a little too fast. “It’s nothing.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

Sunghoon gave him a look. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Jake bit his lip. Then sighed.

“Heeseung was on the phone. With Hyuna.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “Okay…”

“And I’m pretty sure—like 99.8% sure—he was inviting her here.”

Sunghoon skated ahead a little, turned, and glided backward while facing Jake. Show-off. “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“Think Jungwon knows?”

“Nope.”

“Think he’ll explode when he finds out?”

“Absolutely.”

They lapsed into silence again. Sunghoon’s smile faded a little, replaced by something more thoughtful.

“You’re not gonna tell him?”

Jake shook his head. “It’s not my place. I just… I don’t want this trip to fall apart. Not yet.”

Sunghoon nodded once. “Same.”

And with that, they kept skating—Jake still holding the rail, Sunghoon offering the occasional snarky tip—but the tension lingered in Jake’s chest.

Heeseung’s secret. Jungwon’s head pat. Sunghoon’s quiet trust.

Too many truths and too many silences.

He didn’t know what would crack first.

But something would.

Eventually.

The sun had started its slow slide toward the horizon by the time Jake and Sunghoon made their way back down the quiet neighborhood street, cheeks flushed from cold air and half-laughed arguments over who actually fell more (Jake swore it was Sunghoon once, even if no one else saw).

They were maybe three blocks away from the house when Jake heard it—
a quiet, muffled gasp followed by hurried footsteps and the rustle of a backpack zipper.

He turned.

Two girls. One of them had already grabbed the other’s sleeve, tugging her back like they were about to cross the street and disappear.

Jake tilted his head.

“Wait—are you…?” one of the girls said, louder this time.

Her voice had that nervous edge to it, like hope held too close to the chest.

Jake smiled.

“Hey,” he said, voice gentle.

That was all it took.

The girl in the blue hoodie froze. The other—taller, big-eyed, dressed like sunshine incarnate—clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, oh my GOD, it’s really you!”

Sunghoon blinked beside him, subtly moving to stand a little straighter.

Jake waved with both hands. “Hi, hi—don’t freak out, it’s okay!”

The introverted one—he noticed her name embroidered faintly on her bag: Aera—was already retreating, her cheeks turning cherry-red as she tried to mumble something.

“I can’t,” she whispered, “I’m not ready for this, we’re not even—”

“Aera,” her friend said, grabbing her arm again, “this is literally your moment. You’re always saying you want to hug Jake if you saw him in real life.”

“I didn’t think it would actually happen!”

Jake laughed, soft and warm, like a fireplace. “You’re Aera?”

Aera froze. Then nodded like she’d been caught stealing secrets from heaven.

Jake’s smile stretched wider. “You’re gonna make me look bad if you don’t come say hi.”

Aera visibly short-circuited.

Her friend snorted. “Go. Or I swear, I will drag you over there myself.”

Aera took one (very hesitant) step forward. “I—I really do love you a lot, but this is terrifying.”

Jake put a hand over his chest, pretending to be wounded. “You’re scared of me?”

She shook her head. “No, just… this.”

He stepped forward, arms open.

“Then let me make it a little easier.”

Aera looked like she might pass out, but she walked the last few steps and let him pull her into a hug. It was warm, grounding, full of that careful kindness Jake always carried like instinct.

“See?” he whispered. “Not scary.”

Aera made a high-pitched squeak of a noise and buried her face in his shoulder for one solid second before pulling away, hands shaking slightly.

“You’re—taller than I expected,” she said.

Jake laughed. “You and my mother both say that.”

Sunghoon stepped closer, nodding politely. “Hey.”

Aera’s friend lit up. “You’re so good looking in person,” she said to Sunghoon without missing a beat.

Sunghoon’s eyes flicked toward Aera.

Then back to the louder girl. “Really.”

Jake saw it—just a flicker. The way Sunghoon’s attention lingered not on the one who called him her bias, but on Aera, who looked like she might bolt again any second.

Classic Sunghoon.

Always picking out the quiet ones.

“I’m Nyeisha,” the bubbly one said. “Aera and I were just going to the bakery over there—do you guys want cookies? Or muffins? I’ll buy you muffins. What’s your favorite muffin—”

“We really should get back soon,” Jake said, hands raised like he was fending off the world’s sweetest hurricane.

“But thank you,” Sunghoon added, and somehow made it sound like the end of a scene in a drama.

Aera ducked her head again. “Thank you for the hug,” she said quietly.

Jake tilted his head, smiling. “Thank you for letting me give it.”

They said goodbye a few minutes later—with Nyeisha promising to tweet about this as soon as they got home and Aera mouthing “thank you” to Jake like it still didn’t feel real.

As they walked off, Sunghoon murmured, “She was cute.”

Jake blinked. “Nyeisha?”

“No. Aera.”

Jake smirked. “The shyer one, i didn’t know that was your type?”

Sunghoon didn’t answer.

Jake just laughed again, tucking that moment deep into the part of his brain where the good memories lived. Maybe he’d write about it later. Maybe not.

But the look on Aera’s face when he hugged her—that warmth, that surprise, that overwhelmed joy—

It made everything a little bit lighter.

Even the heaviness he wasn’t quite ready to name yet.

When Jake and Sunghoon stepped through the front door—shoes barely kicked off, breath still cloudy from the cold—what greeted them wasn’t peace.

It was panic.

“Where have you been?” Jungwon’s voice cut through the house before either of them could call out a hello. He was standing at the bottom of the stairs, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly disheveled, a bottle of multi-surface cleaner in one hand and a lemon-scented air freshener in the other.

Jake blinked. “We were at the rink—”

“Without telling me?!”

“Okay, well, technically—”

“Don’t ‘technically’ me, Jaeyun-hyung.”

Sunghoon quietly slipped behind Jake like a human shield.

Jungwon looked two seconds away from combusting. “Do you smell this place?”

Jake gave a cautious sniff. “…Us?”

“Exactly.”

It wasn’t a bad smell, necessarily. Just—very much “boy.” A mix of body spray, sock musk, lingering fried food, and the faintest whiff of unwashed laundry detergent. A scent only teenage boys and shared spaces could produce with such horrifying speed.

“You know what this is?” Jungwon continued, pacing now. “This is what happens when seven guys cram into one house for less than 48 hours and act like ventilation is a myth.”

Jake glanced over at Sunghoon, who shrugged and whispered, “I opened a window this morning.”

“Not enough!” Jungwon barked, hearing it anyway. “And Hyuna-Noona—is coming—tonight.”

Jake’s eyes widened. “Wait, tonight? As in, today, this date, this era, right now tonight?”

Jungwon exhaled like he’d been holding it in since 7AM. “Yes. Tonight. Heeseung-hyung invited her. Without telling anyone. Again.”

“Oh.” Jake scratched the back of his neck. “That’s cool. You know. For him.”

Sunghoon was inching up the stairs. Slowly. Like a cat trying to escape a vacuum.

Jungwon noticed. “Don’t even think about it. You’re helping. We need to clean, we need to spray down everything, and if any of you say ‘it smells fine’ one more time I will throw hands.”

Jake lifted his arms. “You got it, boss. I’ll grab the Febreze.”

“You are the Febreze now.”

“What?”

“Start spraying.”

Jake sighed, trudging off toward the living room to mist every surface like a gentle exorcism.

Sunghoon finally managed to duck away, muttering something about grabbing a hoodie, but not before Jungwon shouted, “You get the bathroom!”

Sunghoon groaned. “We’ve only been here one day!”

“And it already smells like despair and Axe body spray! Go!”

Jake glanced over his shoulder as he passed by the hallway mirror, catching sight of Jungwon mid-panic with a clenched jaw and his stress aura practically visible. The same leader who patted his head this morning like he was a puppy. The same guy who’d been quietly carrying everyone on his back without even letting it show.

And here he was, spiraling about the scent of man and impending guests.

Jake couldn’t help it—he smiled.

This trip might not have been perfect.

But it was still them.

And somehow, even with the chaos, he was starting to think he might finally be okay.

Chapter Text

The house buzzed in the background—distant voices, the low hum of music someone forgot to turn off, and the quiet anxiety of knowing Hyuna would be here any minute. Jake sat curled into the corner of the couch with his knees tucked up and a soft, beat-up journal balanced on his thigh.

He tapped the pen against the page for a moment, then started writing.

______

June 29th, 2025

So.

We’re a few minutes away from Hyuna walking through the door and shaking up this whole trip. I don’t know why I’m nervous—it’s not like she’s going to destroy us or anything.

…unless she starts roasting the scent in this house. Then we’re doomed.

Jake peeked into the kitchen and, yep—Heeseung was cooking.

Not just heating something. Not chopping casually. No, this man was sweating over the stove like Gordon Ramsay had put a gun to his back.

“What are you doing,” Jake whispered, stepping closer.

Heeseung didn’t look up. “I’m sautéing garlic. Don’t speak to me.”

Jake stared. “You don’t sauté anything. You microwave leftover chicken nuggets and call it rustic.”

“This is love, Jake.”

“It smells like desperation.”

“Good.”

And then the front door opened.

And she entered like a scene change.

Hyuna, in all her composed, elegant, terrifying glory—wearing a cropped jacket, perfect eyeliner, and an aura of “I am better than you but in a relatable way.”

“Hey,” she called, stepping out of her sneakers. “Smells like testosterone and basil in here.”

Jungwon groaned audibly from somewhere down the hall. “I knew it.”

Jake blinked. “How did she know?”

“She always knows,” Heeseung muttered, flipping something in the pan with way too much wrist action.

The rest of the members trickled out like moths to the chaos. Jay, Sunoo, and Ni-ki from the shared room. Jungwon from cleaning some invisible corner. And Sunghoon—fresh from sulking or contemplating clouds—moved with that I-don’t-care energy he wore like armor.

“Hello, boys,” Hyuna said, voice chipper. “Don’t worry, I come in peace. Mostly.”

Jungwon squinted at her. “Define ‘mostly.’”

Hyuna smiled, then turned to Heeseung and tugged on his apron. “You’re wearing the frilly one.”

“It’s laundry day,” he said. “And love day.”

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that,” Jungwon muttered.

Hyuna turned to the others and clapped once. “Also—! Guess what. I’m seeing my baby cousin soon. She just moved closer to the city, and I finally get to visit her again.”

Jake tilted his head. “That’s cute.”

“She’s super shy, though,” Hyuna went on, waving a hand. “Barely talks to anyone unless she’s comfortable. Socially awkward. Really quiet. But sweet. She’s a fan of yours, actually.”

Jake smiled. “That’s even cuter.”

Then Hyuna looked at Sunghoon—specifically, pointed at him like she was naming a contestant on a show.

“Sunghoon,” she said, “you’d probably like her.”

Sunghoon didn’t react.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t even grace the moment with a fake, polite shrug.

Until.

“Her name’s Aera.”

Sunghoon froze.

Like an anime character in episode 23 when they realize the girl they made eye contact with in the rain 6 years ago was The One all along.

Jake saw it.

Oh, he saw it.

The tiniest flicker in his expression. The absolute glitch in his system. Like he heard her name and all of his quiet cool-boy walls cracked for half a second.

Jake’s eyes widened. He felt giddy. Like he’d just witnessed a plot twist mid-episode.

He leaned over to whisper to Jungwon. “Did you see that? He just malfunctioned.”

Jungwon didn’t even look at him. “If you bring this up at dinner, I will revoke your headpat privileges.”

Jake went quiet.

But his grin?

Uncontrollable.

Sunghoon—stoic, untouchable, emotionally beige Sunghoon—had a reaction.

And the cause?

Aera.

The same girl who had ducked her head, tried to walk away, and still made Sunghoon look at her like she was sunlight in a cold hallway.

Jake nearly giggled.

If Sunghoon fell any harder, there’d be a crater.

Also I think Jungwon might explode from stress. He was practically scrubbing the walls earlier. The walls. And yelling about “man smell.”

I don’t even know what that means. I shower daily. I use cologne. I LIGHT A CANDLE SOMETIMES.

He paused, smiled to himself, then moved on to the part of his brain that had been spiraling since this morning.

Anyway.
Jungwon patted my head at breakfast.

I don’t know why. He just… walked by and did it.

It wasn’t even a dramatic pat. Just a quiet little “good job, kid” motion and then he moved on like it didn’t matter.

But it did.
It mattered.
I wanted to crawl under the table and melt.

I don’t know why my heart did three flips. It’s not like it was romantic. Probably.

(Was it romantic?? No. Probably not. Definitely not. But he did call me “Jakey” this morning when I brought him tea. So. That’s something.)

Jake let out a slow breath. Scribbled a weird, loopy heart next to that last line and aggressively scratched it out.

And then there’s Sunghoon.

I always thought it’d take a full moon and maybe a blood pact to make him emotionally available. Took me years to get close to him. Literal years. I thought I was doing so well.

But then.

Aera.

Little quiet Aera with her hoodie pulled up and her eyes on the ground like we were too bright to look at.

And somehow she gets the softest look I’ve ever seen on Sunghoon’s face?

I watched him follow her with his eyes like she was a rare butterfly. And he SMILED.

Not just his usual polite “ah, yes, a living person” smile. No. This was “I wanna protect her from the world” smile.

Like, are you kidding me?

She said like three words.

Meanwhile, I had to cry with him during our trainee years and nearly get hypothermia during an outdoor music video shoot just to be his friend.

And Wonyoung? She didn’t even try. She breathed near him once and he went soft like butter in a microwave.

I think about that a lot.
Wonyoung is a woman of many secrets.
Aera might be one, too.

He drew a dramatic squiggly arrow pointing to “Wonyoung is a woman of many secrets” like it was a thesis statement.

And Heeseung…

Heeseung is absolutely inviting Hyuna over to commit freaky couple crimes and I don’t want to know the details.

I saw him behind the van, whispering and giggling like a high schooler about to sneak his girlfriend into prom.

If they disappear at some point tonight, I’m not asking questions.

I just hope they don’t use the shared bathroom.

Jake made a face, crossed out “shared bathroom” and underlined it with fire-shaped doodles. A silent prayer for hygiene.

I guess what I’m trying to say is:

Things are weirdly normal right now.

Everyone’s still a little off in their own way. Ni-ki is quiet. Sunoo’s sticking close. Jay hasn’t said much since the car ride. Heeseung’s in his own love-world.

But it’s better.

It’s not perfect. But we’re trying.

And for the first time in a long time…
I don’t feel like I’m drowning.

I don’t feel fixed, either.

But I feel seen.

Jake stared at the last line. Swallowed.

He closed the journal, hugging it to his chest for a second. Then slid it under the pillow next to him just as the front door creaked open and someone called—

“Hyuna’s here!”

Jake sighed.

Showtime.

Jake peeked into the kitchen and, yep—Heeseung was cooking.

Not just heating something. Not chopping casually. No, this man was sweating over the stove like Gordon Ramsay had put a gun to his back.

“What are you doing,” Jake whispered, stepping closer.

Heeseung didn’t look up. “I’m sautéing garlic. Don’t speak to me.”

Jake stared. “You don’t sauté anything. You microwave leftover chicken nuggets and call it rustic.”

“This is love, Jake.”

“It smells like desperation.”

“Good.”

And then the front door opened.

And she entered like a scene change.

Hyuna, in all her composed, elegant, terrifying glory—wearing a cropped jacket, perfect eyeliner, and an aura of “I am better than you but in a relatable way.”

“Hey,” she called, stepping out of her sneakers. “Smells like testosterone and basil in here.”

Jungwon groaned audibly from somewhere down the hall. “I knew it.”

Jake blinked. “How did she know?”

“She always knows,” Heeseung muttered, flipping something in the pan with way too much wrist action.

The rest of the members trickled out like moths to the chaos. Jay, Sunoo, and Ni-ki from the shared room. Jungwon from cleaning some invisible corner. And Sunghoon—fresh from sulking or contemplating clouds—moved with that I-don’t-care energy he wore like armor.

“Hello, boys,” Hyuna said, voice chipper. “Don’t worry, I come in peace. Mostly.”

Jungwon squinted at her. “Define ‘mostly.’”

Hyuna smiled, then turned to Heeseung and tugged on his apron. “You’re wearing the frilly one.”

“It’s laundry day,” he said. “And love day.”

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that,” Jungwon muttered.

Hyuna turned to the others and clapped once. “Also—! Guess what. I’m seeing my baby cousin soon. She just moved closer to the city, and I finally get to visit her again.”

Jake tilted his head. “That’s cute.”

“She’s super shy, though,” Hyuna went on, waving a hand. “Barely talks to anyone unless she’s comfortable. Socially awkward. Really quiet. But sweet. She’s a fan of yours, actually.”

Jake smiled. “That’s even cuter.”

Then Hyuna looked at Sunghoon—specifically, pointed at him like she was naming a contestant on a show.

“Sunghoon,” she said, “you’d probably like her.”

Sunghoon didn’t react.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t even grace the moment with a fake, polite shrug.

Until.

“Her name’s Aera.”

Sunghoon froze.

Like an anime character in episode 23 when they realize the girl they made eye contact with in the rain 6 years ago was The One all along.

Jake saw it.

Oh, he saw it.

The tiniest flicker in his expression. The absolute glitch in his system. Like he heard her name and all of his quiet cool-boy walls cracked for half a second.

Jake’s eyes widened. He felt giddy. Like he’d just witnessed a plot twist mid-episode.

He leaned over to whisper to Jungwon. “Did you see that? He just malfunctioned.”

Jungwon didn’t even look at him. “If you bring this up at dinner, I will revoke your headpat privileges.”

Jake went quiet.

But his grin?

Uncontrollable.

Sunghoon—stoic, untouchable, emotionally beige Sunghoon—had a reaction.

And the cause?

Aera.

The same girl who had ducked her head, tried to walk away, and still made Sunghoon look at her like she was sunlight in a cold hallway.

Jake nearly giggled.

If Sunghoon fell any harder, there’d be a crater.

Dinner was, in a word, loud.

Clinking plates. Clashing personalities. A table full of boys who had no idea what an inside voice was. And at the center of it all—Heeseung, standing proud, apron still on, eyes gleaming like Gordon Ramsay’s slightly unstable younger cousin.

“I swear to God,” Jay muttered, shoveling another spoonful of creamy pasta into his mouth, “if you can cook like this, why do you let me suffer every other day?”

“I save my powers for special occasions,” Heeseung replied, smug as hell.

Jake blinked down at his plate. It was suspiciously good. Soft, creamy, well-seasoned. Heeseung had even made homemade garlic bread. Jake was genuinely impressed and also a little scared.

Across the table, Ni-ki was going feral.

Not loudly—but like a kid who had been told “no snacks” for two weeks and was now tasting flavor for the first time in his life. His plate was already nearly empty, and he was eyeing the rest of the dish like a dragon guarding treasure.

“You want more?” Heeseung asked, laughing.

Ni-ki nodded once, serious. “Please.”

Jake leaned over to whisper to Jungwon, “Is this adoption? Like…is Ni-ki Heeseung’s now?”

Jungwon didn’t look up. “Heeseung has been bribing Ni-ki with food for months. This is the final form.”

Jake scribbled in his mental journal:

Note: Heeseung is Ni-ki’s father now. Probation period started during comeback season. Confirmed at dinner with pasta.

Across from them, Sunoo was already wiping down Ni-ki’s hands with a wet napkin like a patient older brother. “You have sauce on your nose.”

“I’m enjoying myself,” Ni-ki mumbled through a mouthful.

Sunghoon, meanwhile, was eating slowly—methodically—but Jake didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked toward Hyuna every so often. Or how he hadn’t argued once with her all evening. That was rare. Sunghoon didn’t just not argue. That meant something was brewing.

Jake nearly smirked.

Jungwon was at the head of the table, looking like a man who had just walked into a kindergarten class he didn’t remember signing up to supervise. He was eating, sure, but every now and then he glanced around like he was checking for weapons or chaos or spills.

“Why are you standing?” he asked suddenly, looking at Jake.

Jake blinked. “Am I?”

“You were halfway up from your seat.”

“I was adjusting.”

“You were creeping toward the bread.”

“I’m stretching.”

“You were reaching for a third slice.”

“I’m bulking.”

Jungwon narrowed his eyes. Then—headpat.

Quick. Brief. Gentle.

Jake paused like he’d been struck by a divine force.

His heart skipped.

Did… did that mean approval?

It had to. Jungwon hadn’t scolded him for real. He hadn’t even brought up the snacks from earlier. This… this was a blessing. A miracle.

Jake sat down slowly, brain short-circuiting.

Across the table, Ni-ki was stabbing a meatball with precision. Heeseung was still glowing. Hyuna was sipping wine like she hadn’t just said Sunghoon would like her cousin. And Sunghoon?

Sunghoon was thinking about that girl named Aera.

Jake saw it.

Saw it in the way he wasn’t sighing or looking bored. Saw it in how his jaw wasn’t clenched. He just looked… thoughtful.

Maybe even a little soft.

Jake smiled to himself.

This dinner was insane.

And he was going to remember every second of it.

____

June 29th, 2025 — 10:30PM

Today was… weird.

Good weird. Chaotic weird. The kind of weird that makes you feel like something’s shifting but you don’t know if it’s outside of you or in you. Maybe both.

Dinner was incredible. Like, weirdly incredible. Heeseung cooked like his life depended on it—like he was competing on a survival reality show where the prize was eternal bragging rights and Ni-ki’s loyalty. And I think he won. Ni-ki looked at him like he invented flavor. I’m not joking when I say that boy inhaled two plates like he hadn’t eaten in three days. Heeseung just laughed and fed him more.

Honestly… it was kind of cute. Borderline sitcom-level parenting.

Heeseung: chaotic father.
Ni-ki: gremlin son.
Sunoo: exhausted older brother with cleaning wipes.
10/10 casting.

Jungwon? He was stressed. I don’t blame him—he’s literally balancing being a leader, a scheduler, a chaperone, and whatever title you give someone who tries to herd six wildly different boys into some version of sanity. And yet… he didn’t scold me.

That’s the part I keep thinking about.

The snack run. The ice rink trip. The fact that we vanished this morning without telling anyone—especially him—and instead of getting his usual “Do you guys want me to lose hair?” lecture, I got a head pat.

A head. Pat.

I don’t know what it meant, but it’s going in this journal because it felt like something. Not just approval—but a kind of softness. A rare “I trust you” kind of gesture. Like I’m not just a golden retriever for everyone else’s problems. Like maybe he sees me, even when I don’t say anything.

(But also what did it mean??? Why did it make my heart do that weird skip??? Someone send help.)

Anyway.

Sunghoon.
That man is an enigma. Cold exterior, sarcastic voice, always “existing” in the background like a mysterious NPC. And yet—today?

That girl. Aera.
Her name made him freeze.

Hyuna said it casually. Just: “You’d like her.”

Sunghoon didn’t even blink when she said “cousin.” But when she said Aera?

He turned his head so fast you’d think someone mentioned free Wi-Fi and figure skating at the same time.

He hasn’t said anything, but I saw the way he looked when we met her earlier. Soft curiosity. That “do I know you?” gaze. He never looks at anyone like that—especially not a fan. But Aera isn’t just a fan now. She’s Hyuna’s cousin. She’s… close.

And she’s sweet. Shy. Looked like she wanted to vanish the second we waved. But she smiled when I hugged her. And Sunghoon? He noticed. He noticed everything.

I’m happy for him.
Kind of jealous, maybe. Not of her. Just… how easily people seem to open up to other people.

Sunghoon took years to open up to me. YEARS. I had to survive I-LAND, messy choreo, stage burns, and several identity crises before he even said “good job” to me. And now this girl shows up and he’s ready to write poetry?? 😭

(I mean—valid. She’s SO cute.)

But I still remember the time I messed up choreo during training and he said, “You have potential” like he was announcing a funeral.

Now we’re best friends. Platonic soulmates, if you will. And if he ever breaks that girl’s heart, I’m fully ready to fight him. No hesitation.

Anyway. Hyuna’s staying over, Heeseung is in his honeymoon era, and Jungwon is probably still scrubbing our scent off the couch. The man said, and I quote, “Why does this house already smell like men and bad decisions?”

We’ve been here one day.

One.

God help us all.

I’m going to sleep now.

Or maybe not.

Maybe I’ll just lie here and think about head pats.

Goodnight, Journal.
Let’s survive another day.

Chapter Text

The house was still quiet.

Too quiet for a place housing seven boys and a guest who could outtalk any of them if she wanted to. Jake figured the silence wouldn’t last long, so he took the opportunity. He moved through the kitchen on bare feet, tying the strings of his hoodie behind his back as he flipped the eggs on the pan.

Jungwon was still asleep. Sunoo and Ni-ki were probably huddled under the kotatsu table like little gremlins. Sunghoon had vanished after dinner last night and reappeared only to shower and disappear again.

And Heeseung…

Jake blinked.

Speak of the devil.

“Morning,” Jake said.

Heeseung looked like he had been emotionally drop-kicked out of a dream. His hair was sticking up on one side. His eyes were bloodshot. His shirt was backwards.

Jake blinked again. “Rough night?”

Heeseung ran a hand through his already messy hair, looking both 1) wrecked and 2) beautiful. How unfair.

“She stayed.” Heeseung muttered, like it was still processing in his system. “She stayed. All night. In my bed. I didn’t think she would—I mean, I hoped she would, but—god, Jake.”

Jake handed him a mug. “Drink before you pass out.”

Heeseung took it gratefully, wrapping both hands around it like it was the only thing tethering him to the floor.

“She looked so peaceful this morning,” he continued, almost whispering. “I didn’t want to wake her up. But I kept thinking…what if she regrets it? What if it was just the wine or the moment or—what if she looked at me today and just…”

Jake didn’t say anything. Let him talk. Let him spiral. He knew this tone.

“I’m so stupid. I overtalked. I said something about that dumb song she hates and she laughed but then I panicked and tried to defend it and then I tripped on the carpet and—ugh, Jake, I’m a grown-ass man, how do I still fumble the bag like this?”

Jake gently turned off the stove burner, sliding the pan off the heat.

“Hyung.”

Heeseung looked at him with wide, tired eyes.

Jake paused. “She looked at you like you hung the moon. Like you’re her everything. You know that, right?”

“I’m not that great.”

“You kind of are.”

Heeseung blinked.

Jake shrugged. “You forget I see the way she looks at you when you’re not looking. I think she stares at you like you’re the sun. Not the dangerous kind of stare, but like… the ‘if I don’t look now, I might miss it’ kind.”

Heeseung stared down at the floor. Then at his coffee.

Then he whispered, “She likes the way I smile in the mornings.”

Jake smiled. “I like the way you smile in the mornings too, hyung.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes and bumped Jake with his shoulder, letting the tension drain from his frame a little.

Jake reached for the spatula again. “She’s still here, isn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

“She didn’t run?”

“No.”

“Then you’re fine.”

Heeseung sighed. “Yeah.”

But there was color in his cheeks now. The ghost of a grin at the corner of his mouth.

“Wipe your face before she comes out here,” Jake added. “You’ve got sleep in your eyes and love in your smile. It’s embarrassing.”

Heeseung flipped him off without even looking up. “Thanks, Dr. Jake.”

Jake bowed. “Always here for your 8 a.m. romantic breakdowns.”

Heeseung grabbed a banana and wandered off, probably to go sit dramatically at the edge of a couch and pretend he wasn’t waiting for Hyuna to wake up.

Jake exhaled, just now realizing how much he’d tensed up too.

This was his normal. Being the morning voice of reason. Helping people stitch themselves back together with gentle words and good food.

It wasn’t bad. He liked doing it. He really did.

But still…

He cracked another egg into the pan and stared down at the way it sizzled. The house was waking up around him. A door creaked open down the hall. Someone yawned loudly in the living room.

And somewhere, Hyuna was about to walk into the kitchen and remind Heeseung that he was worth loving with her eyes alone.

Jake couldn’t help the smile curling at the edge of his mouth.

He was happy for them. Genuinely.

Still, as the egg bubbled in the pan and his thoughts wandered—he found himself wondering:

What does it feel like to be looked at like that?
Like you’re someone’s sun.
Like you shine.

And what did it take to get there?

He glanced over his shoulder.

Somewhere behind that door, Jungwon was probably still asleep.

Jake reached for the pepper, smirking to himself.

Maybe not all answers had to come in the morning.

Some of them, he’d wait for.

Jake had just finished plating the eggs when he heard the dragging footsteps.

He didn’t have to turn around to know who it was—only one member moved like that in the morning, like every step offended them on a personal level.

“Morning, Sunoo,” Jake said gently, not looking up as he slid toast onto a plate.

Sunoo didn’t answer. Just slumped into a chair with a groan that sounded like it had aged ten years in his throat. His hood was up. Hair messy. Face blotchy. No skincare. No gloss. Just vibes and regret.

Jake finally looked over.

“Wow,” he said softly, keeping his tone light. “You look like an anti-fan posted one of your middle school selcas.”

Sunoo gave a small, pitiful noise in response. Not quite a laugh. Not quite a sob. Somewhere in the middle. Jake took it as a sign to proceed.

He brought the plate over and set it down in front of him.

“Eat something,” he said. “You look like you haven’t slept in five years.”

Sunoo blinked down at the plate. “I didn’t even know you were still nice in the mornings.” His voice cracked mid-sentence. Not from attitude. Just from… exhaustion.

Jake sat across from him and leaned his arms on the table.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked.

“No,” Sunoo said immediately. Then a beat later, “Maybe.”

Jake nodded. Waited. The same way he’d waited for Heeseung. Like the door would open if you just sat quietly in front of it long enough.

Finally, Sunoo let out a shaky sigh.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Everything just feels like too much right now? I feel like I’m supposed to be happy all the time or funny or—whatever it is people think I am. But I’m just… tired. And I didn’t even do anything yesterday. But it’s like my heart won’t shut up. I keep thinking about home. And how I miss my mom’s kimchi-jjigae. And how I’m scared of waking up and realizing none of this was real. Or that it is real but it won’t last.”

Jake stayed quiet. Letting the words land where they needed to.

“And I know I’m lucky,” Sunoo continued. “I know. But I don’t always feel lucky, and then I feel guilty. And then I get mad at myself for feeling guilty. And it’s like this stupid loop I can’t break.”

Jake reached across the table and tapped the edge of the plate.

“You’re not stupid,” he said. “You’re human.”

Sunoo bit his lip. “Sometimes it feels like being human isn’t allowed. Not in front of people.”

Jake exhaled slowly. “That’s why I make eggs.”

Sunoo looked up, confused. “What?”

Jake smiled, small and tired. “It’s the one thing I can do right every morning, even when everything else feels too heavy. It doesn’t fix anything, not really. But it’s something. And when you’re falling apart, sometimes you just need one thing that makes you feel like yourself again.”

He pushed the toast closer to Sunoo’s side.

“So today, that one thing is breakfast. Tomorrow, it might be yelling at Ni-ki or doing your skin care routine. But you don’t have to be okay all at once. Just be… here. Right now.”

Sunoo’s eyes shimmered a little, but he didn’t cry.

Instead, he sniffed and picked up his fork. “This better be seasoned properly or I’m emotionally breaking down for nothing.”

Jake grinned. “Please. I’m a professional therapist and chef.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“You love it.”

Sunoo ate slowly, but he did eat. And by the time Jungwon wandered in rubbing his eyes, Sunoo was already fake-threatening to stab Jake with his fork for using too much pepper.

Jake didn’t mind. It was better than silence.

He’d carry everyone’s weight a little longer, if it meant mornings like this could feel warm again.

Even if it chipped away at him piece by piece—he was still holding on.

The kitchen door creaked open, and in they came—one by one like a parade of half-asleep, emotionally fragile warriors ready to wage war on breakfast.

Ni-ki shuffled in, still looking like a kid who’d just lost his last candy bar. Jay followed, yawning dramatically, acting like he hadn’t just stayed up scrolling memes until 3 a.m. Sunghoon trailed behind, with that signature cool-yet-somehow-exhausted vibe that made Jake think he was part vampire, part grumpy angel.

Jungwon slipped in quietly last, but Jake caught the way his eyes flicked around like a mom counting heads on the playground, mentally making sure nobody had cut class.

Jake gave him a small, tired grin as he slid the frying pan off the burner.

Jungwon’s gaze landed on Jake, then hesitated—before lightly reaching out to ruffle Jake’s hair, a subtle but grounding gesture.

Jake froze, caught off guard, cheeks warming like he’d just been caught sneaking cookies. He opened his mouth to say something but shut it again, the moment hanging there like a secret between them.

“Focus on the eggs,” Jungwon said dryly, pulling back, but his eyes betrayed a softness that Jake wasn’t about to forget anytime soon.

Before Jake could fully recover, Hyuna appeared from the hallway, looking like she belonged in a music video, not a cramped dorm kitchen. She’d stayed the night, of course—Heeseung’s idea. Jake could see the way Heeseung’s eyes lit up when she entered, that mix of nervous excitement and absolute adoration that made Jake’s chest twist painfully.

Jake watched as they exchanged smiles, a quiet conversation sparking between them—Heeseung laughing softly at something Hyuna said, the way she leaned in just a little, like they were wrapped up in their own little universe.

Jake bit his lip and muttered under his breath, “Damn… I kinda wish I had my own Hyuna.”

What Jake didn’t notice was Jungwon’s gaze sharp as a hawk’s, lingering on him a moment too long before turning back to the stove.

Because Jungwon always watches. Always knows.

Even the sun doesn’t know it’s being watched like that.

The kitchen buzzed with half-formed sentences and sleepy jokes, the way it always did when the group was together—messy, imperfect, and real.

Jay was already stealing bites off Ni-ki’s plate, Ni-ki shooting daggers but too sleepy to fight back. Sunghoon was smirking at something Jungwon just said, and for once, Jungwon’s lips twitched upwards—not quite a smile, but close enough.

Jake settled into the chaos, but somewhere deep down, he felt the familiar tug—the ache of wanting to belong just a little more, to be seen beyond the breakfast cook and the quiet friend.

But for now, he’d take this moment. The warmth. The noise. The way Jungwon’s hand had felt in his hair.

Because sometimes, that was enough.

The clatter of dishes and muffled laughter filled the kitchen as everyone settled into their breakfast groove. Ni-ki was still half asleep, Jay was stealing fries like it was a competitive sport, and Hyuna was chatting quietly with Heeseung, who looked almost too smitten to function.

Jake was quietly pouring orange juice when Sunghoon dropped his comment like a grenade wrapped in teasing velvet.

“Jake’s mothering more than Jungwon these days,” Sunghoon said, smirking as he leaned casually against the counter.

Heads snapped toward him. A beat of silence. Then the room exploded.

Ni-ki snorted, almost choking on his cereal. Jay gave Sunghoon a slow clap. Even Jungwon raised an eyebrow, lips twitching like he was trying not to laugh.

Jake froze mid-pour, orange juice dribbling down the side of the glass.

“Excuse me?” Jake said, voice way too high-pitched for a grown man.

Sunghoon just smirked wider. “Yeah, man. You’re out here making sure everyone’s hydrated and fed, reminding Jungwon to eat his damn vegetables. I half expect you to start knitting sweaters.”

Jungwon finally chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m offended. I’m the official mom.”

Jake’s cheeks flamed. “I’m just trying to keep y’all alive.”

Jay winked at Jake. “Yeah, and making Jungwon sweat. That’s a skill.”

Hyuna laughed softly, and Heeseung gave Jake an encouraging nod.

Jake tried to roll with it, but inside? He was crumbling like day-old toast.

Sunghoon elbowed him lightly. “Relax, Mom. You’re doing fine.”

Jake threw up his hands, smiling despite himself. “Okay, okay. Maybe I’m the mom. But only because someone’s gotta do it.”

Jungwon shot Jake a look that said I see you.

And Jake? He grinned, secretly loving every second of it.

Jake forced a casual smile as the teasing bounced around the kitchen, but inside, his thoughts were swirling.

Mom? he mused. Maybe. Someone has to keep this circus from falling apart. Jungwon’s got the leadership, but I’m the one making sure they don’t starve or turn into zombies. Honestly? I kind of like being the mom. It’s… different. Feels good to matter like that.

He glanced around at the scattered crew—their laughter, the mess, the little sparks of warmth between them all—and for a moment, it didn’t feel so heavy. Like maybe things were gonna be okay.

Then the bubble burst.

Jake stepped out of the kitchen, intending to grab his jacket before everyone headed out.

That’s when he saw it.

Heeseung and Hyuna, standing way too close by the window, the air thick with a heat that made Jake’s stomach twist.

Heeseung’s hand slid up Hyuna’s arm, fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns that spoke of promises and secrets.

Hyuna’s eyes sparkled, lips parted like a soft invitation.

Jake froze, heart pounding. This wasn’t just a goodbye hug.

Nope.

This was intense.

The kind of chemistry that made the whole room sizzle.

Jake backed away quietly, cheeks burning hotter than ever.

Damn, he thought. They’re… really going for it. And here I am, still trying to figure out how to get a headpat.

He swallowed hard, shoved his hands deep in his pockets, and told himself to focus.

Because today was the day they left the cabin.

And things were about to get real for Jake.

Chapter Text

Hey...sooooo I wasn't planning on this but look at where we're at. I am thinking about discontinuing this whole fic, I've completely lost the motivation to keep writing for this. Maybe I'll get it back and maybe I won't but for now, this has a 99% chance of being orphaned and gone. I seriously can't continue with this story, it was a fun idea for the most part but I doubted if this was going to work out. Sorry everyone, maybe i'll come back to this.