A week later, Jonghyun watches his reflection as he brushes his teeth, notes the pale skin and heavy eye-bags. In his head, thoughts run rampant. Thoughts along the lines of, I should be able to sleep well every night like a normal person. It’ll be the same as every other time, another night of sleepless misery. I’m never going to be able to sleep well; all Jinki’s research will amount to nothing. If I’m lucky it will only take hour to get to sleep tonight, but it will probably take longer. He’s sure this negative, defeatist mind-set isn’t the best thing to have, the best way to heal, but Jonghyun can’t seem to snap out of it. The problem is,

Nothing’s working.

A few days before, Jonghyun had laughed when he found a yoga DVD on the table with a note in Jinki’s handwriting saying, I got umma to send this over, maybe it’ll help by teaching you relaxation techniques????? \(^-^)/

He had tried the DVD and it helped him wind down, but he just found himself physically paralysed on the bed, with his mind still whirring at 100mph.

Then, the day after, Key and Minho had combined their knowledge of everything bath related - Jonghyun still couldn’t believe Minho shared Key’s obsession with bath bombs, of all things - and he had come back from visiting the gym with Minho to find Key had set up the bathroom for him to take a long and relaxing bath. The congratulatory smirks the pair had exchanged had informed him it was a group effort and Jonghyun had made sure to kiss both of them, hands cupping their cheeks and tongue into their mouths one by one to show his appreciation. He still couldn’t sleep that night.

Taemin had taken it upon himself to help Jonghyun with all his chores, which was, given Taemin’s track record of avoiding chores at all costs, a very touching gesture. Furthermore, he had also snuck out, armed with a list from Key of Jonghyun’s favourite fragrances, and had appeared sometime later with a huge number of scented candles for Jonghyun to burn at night.

Despite everything they had done already and continue to do now, Jonghyun finds himself standing in the bathroom with the word insomnia on a loop in his brain. Which is drop-dead exhausted, tired like it never had been before. His brain, that is. He watches as his reflection’s eyes droop and it’s body rocks from side to side. Tentatively, he reconsiders his earlier assumption and fancies he might be able to sleep tonight.

He’s just climbed into bed - he’s chosen Minho’s tonight because he tonight he feels fragile, like the faintest wind could breeze him apart, and he always feels safe with Minho - when he hears his phone ringing. He knows he shouldn’t answer it, shouldn’t disturb what small bedtime routine he’s managed to establish, especially when there’s a high chance he might actually be able to sleep straight away, but what if it’s important?

“Jjong?”

“Appa?!”

“Thank God,” his father breathes down the line. “Your mother and I have been worried about you.” At those words, Jonghyun can feel a headache sparking and he suddenly tears up. He was so ing close to sleeping. Now he’s got an hour or so ahead of him spent reassuring his parents that he’s ok. He tries to blink the tears away and pay attention.

“I know we basically signed away our parenting rights over you the second we gave you permission to sign that bloody contract,” Jonghyun really, really wishes he didn’t talk like that, “But you can’t blame us for being worried. The last time we saw you on national television, you looked like you were only half-conscious. You haven’t been doing any of the recent interviews for your up-coming album, and they keep saying you’re sick and just taking the chance to rest before the comeback actually happens. But you always phone your mother and moan about what hurts whenever you’re ill, and we haven’t received a single phone call. Jjong, what’s wrong?”

Jonghyun wonders what his father would do if he just burst into tears. On another note, he wonders how he would react if Jonghyun admitted the pathetic truth, “Oh no, I just can’t sleep like a normal person. In fact, I can’t sleep at all.” Expectant silence stretches on and Jonghyun keeps opening and closing his mouth, bereft of words. His father makes a small noise that sounds like a mixture of encouragement and frustration and Jonghyun’s eyes well with tears once more, distorting his vision.

He moves the phone away so his father doesn’t hear the way he’s desperately trying to calm his breathing as he wipes the tears away. He draws his legs closer until he is curled up into a ball, shaking slightly. He thinks that, beyond the blur of his tears, he can see sleep waving goodbye and climbing out of the window and disappearing into the night.

“Jonghyun, are you still there, son?” Jonghyun has just made the decision to just open his mouth and whatever comes out, so be it, when Jinki opens the door. Jonghyun’s lip is trembling and his hand is clutching the phone so hard his knuckles are white. Jinki blinks at him, quickly assessing the situation, and when Jonghyun blinks back at him, a few more tears trickle down his face. He thinks he must look pathetic and ugly and is so glad Jinki has seen him even worse before and loves him despite that, loves him even inclusively.

Jinki sits on the bed beside him and Jonghyun gives him the phone when he holds his hand out for it. Jonghyun lets himself dissolve, everything disfiguring in the reflection within the salty teardrops. He drifts and doesn’t register anything except Jinki’s hand his head. He thinks he’s still crying later, weak but unstoppable rivulets down his cheeks, when Jinki’s steady hand with its stubby fingers and warm palm disappears.

He might whimper at the loss, but before he can work himself up, he feels Minho’s lithe body settling next to him, gently manhandling him so Jonghyun is curled up within the protective cage of Minho’s arms. Someone - Taemin, Jonghyun guesses, if the lips that kiss his forehead beforehand are any indication - turns off the lights.

Jonghyun remembers how he feels tiny and safe in Minho’s arms and lets the feeling flow through him, relaxing his tense muscles and mopping up his tears and, finally, leading him into sleep.

Sunlight is slipping past the curtains to spill across the carpet, dust motes gold as they dance languorously through the warm air. Jonghyun wants to dip his hands into the stream of light, run his hands through the puddles of sun on the floor.

He manages to extract himself from Minho’s arms, despite the fact that Minho’s octopus limbs just wrap tighter around him when he tries to wriggle free. He huffs in Minho’s face when he finally escapes and grins hazily when Minho’s nose wrinkles at the puff of air.

Jonghyun almost sighs in relief when he can’t hear anybody in the bathroom when he pads out of the room. Just thinking about Key still makes him want to cry, and, despite how calm he’d managed to be, Minho had shaken him up too.

All the crying last night had exhausted him and he slept deeply, notwithstanding the early wake-up…wait, he hasn’t actually checked the time yet. And it’s sunnier outside than usual. Jonghyun runs to get his phone where it’s charging in the living room, sliding on his sock over to the socket and snatching his phone up.

“ yes!” he cries at the sight of ’10:11’. It’s the latest he’s slept the entire week and the knowledge makes him feel even more refreshed; it’s Saturday and they haven’t got any schedules until a talk-show in the evening, so the rest are all lying in. He wonders if Minho had woken at his usual 6am and gone back to sleep just so he didn’t wake Jonghyun by moving. Jonghyun takes selfish pleasure in the thought. Smiling giddily, he plugs in his headphones and turns on his favourite light but upbeat song. Humming along, Jonghyun dances his way to the kitchen and;

Taemin is standing with his back to the door. He too is wearing headphones, bouncing slightly on his toes to the beat whilst he shovels dry cereal into his mouth and drinks milk straight from the carton, giggling softly at the perceived naughtiness of it and;

Taemin is wearing the shortest shorts, hardly covering his arse and ratty enough that his boxers can be seen through the rips in multiple places, and he’s pretty sure they once belonged to Key and;

Taemin’s skinny but muscular legs are a pattern of smooth tan skin and bright, throbbing red scratches. Crimson welts dragging the top-layer of skin away, stretching from under the shorts down to his knees, cutting around his calves. Some scratches are fading even as Jonghyun looks. Others are speckled with red blots of burst blood vessels and yet more are worse, haven’t scabbed over, droplets of blood beading like rubies on the smooth skin, unhurriedly succumbing to gravity and trickling down Taemin’s legs.

Jonghyun’s own legs give way and he finds himself on the floor, blinking dazedly as Taemin turns at the crashing sound and drops the milk carton.

The younger man follows his lover’s horrified stare, down to his thighs and God, his thighs are even worse. When Taemin looks up from the bloody mess, he meets Jonghyun’s eyes with huge maknae eyes, swimming with fear, guilt and something that looks a lot like anger.

“You weren’t supposed to know. None of you were.” Taemin mutters sharply under his breath, stepping delicately around the explosion of milk on the floor and crouching beside Jonghyun. “You’re all supposed to be sleeping, it’s Saturday morning and even you were fast asleep, I double-checked.” He helps Jonghyun to his feet, then quickly retreats to the other side of the milk lake.

“Are you-I mean, how long have you…?”

“It’s not what it looks like.” Taemin’s expression is one of distrust, of partially hidden fear and Jonghyun’s heart aches. “I don’t use…it’s just. Nails, you know, they can do more damage than you’d think.” Both of them look at where Taemin’s long, neatly kept nails are biting half-moons into his palm. “It’s not as bad as it seems,” he adds, “I just, uh. I didn’t wash the stuff away yet because it’s kind of…nice. I mean, I just like seeing it-“

“Stuff? Seriously Tae? You mean blood, right? You mean you haven’t wiped away all the ing blood yet, oh my god,” Jonghyun leans against the doorframe and presses the heels of his hands into his forehead, “How could you do this to yourself?”

Taemin’s somewhat affronted and a lot angry. “I told you it’s not that bad. You’re talking like it’s the end of the world or like I’m…cutting or something. It’s not! It’s not that bad, I’m not that bad, it’s just sometimes. The stress, you know?”

Jonghyun’s face twists. Yes, he knows.

“And when my legs don’t move like I want them too. Arms are easier, don’t you think? It’s always the leggy moves that leave me a step behind.”

“Taemin, you’re never a step behind and even if you were, it wouldn’t matter, we wouldn’t care-“

“My skin just tingles, you know? It’s like, my skin is making me feel claustrophobic and when I scrape it open just a bit then I can let it all go. Let the blood and stress and fear and disappointment all flood down the drain.”

“The shower?” Jonghyun demands. What else has their bathroom been witness to?

“Thoughts come so much easier in the shower. Usually they’re good ones, but occasionally. Well.” Taemin gestures at his legs so blasé, so casually, that Jonghyun feels disorientated. A bit nauseous. “This week hasn’t been relaxing, let’s just say that; I can’t help but think that I need to help more, you know? Like, I know Key takes on more for me because he wants to look after me, sees me as his baby and it’s lovely, I really do love it but not if it means he ends up throwing up in the bathroom at o’clock in the morning.”

Jonghyun is so glad he never mentioned Minho’s little…episode, a couple of mornings ago. He hates to even imagine how red Taemin’s legs would be now; if he had known his fellow maknae fails at coping sometimes too.

Taemin screws his features up, pressing back against kitchen cabinets as if he wants to sink into them. “I’m sorry, ok? Please stop looking at me like that. You…you’re having troubles too, you’re struggling with that god-awful insomnia, and I don’t want to make it worse. I don’t want to worry you, I don’t want to be burdensome and selfish and make you worse. You were happy when you woke up, I’m guessing, ‘cause it’s late and you slept.

“Jinki said you’d sleep well. Jinki kissed me goodnight, you know, and he told me “Taeminnie, I’m so glad I can count on you to help me get everyone through this” and I want him to keep counting on me.” They’ve always been close, closer like Key and Minho are closer, or Key and Jonghyun; sneaking off to each other’s rooms and lingering behind on the sofa after everyone else has called their ‘love-you’s and headed off to bed.

Taemin looks desperate and Jonghyun hurts with how much he understands. Taemin continues, “I don’t want him to bottle it all up, bear everything himself, just because I get sort of anxious sometimes and maybe scratch my legs.” Jonghyun wants to say there’s nothing ‘maybe’ about the drying blood on his kneecaps, but doesn’t speak. “He thinks ‘cause he’s the leader he needs to try harder, or some like that. God, Jonghyun, it’s…I didn’t want anyone of you to find out but. Please, Jjong, please don’t tell Jinki.”

It all feels too familiar. Jonghyun swallows.

Instead of replying, he just says, “Let’s get you cleaned up.” Taemin deflates at that, clutching at the counter to prevent his legs from giving out underneath him.

Jonghyun skirts the milk pool and ruffles Taemin’s hair as he passes him to get to the medical cabinet. He goes on his tiptoes to reach the anti-septic wipes, making a grunt of frustration when he still can’t reach. It draws a slightly unwilling chuckle from Taemin, as he presses his front to Jonghyun’s back and reaches over the shorter man to grab the packet, so Jonghyun thinks his height might have some (very few, but some) uses.

“Looking for this?” Taemin smirks. It’s weak but it’s something.

“ you.” Jonghyun nudges his elbow into Taemin’s side. “Go jump up on the table for me sweetheart.”

Blushing - Taemin always blushes such a beautiful shade of pink at Jonghyun’s endearments - the maknae hops his bottom up onto the kitchen table, hissing slightly when the backs of his thighs come into contact with the tabletop.

“What are we going to do today?” Jonghyun asks as he pulls out a chair and sits down on it then wraps a gentle hand around Taemin’s ankle and carefully starts dabbing away the blood.

Taemin winces, “We could watch movies?”

“We could watch that scary new one.”

Taemin cackles, before the sound is cut off by a whimper. Jonghyun apologises softly and Taemin takes a deep breath before commenting, tone light, “Jinki-hyung will get piss-scared and pretend he’s not.”

“We’ll have a good excuse to cuddle him.” Jonghyun points out.

“And Key’s been nagging us to watch it since it arrived in his amazon order last weekend.”

“You know,” Jonghyun pats Taemin’s right knee and moves onto his left calf, “I don’t understand Bummie and his relationship with scary movies. He says he loves watching them but he’s always the one screaming the loudest.”

“I overheard him telling Minho he just pretends in order to ‘set the mood’.” Taemin rolls his eyes and they both laugh at the absurdity of that. Screaming as you jump at the sudden movements on screen is hardly something you can control.

“Did Minho believe him?”

“Hyung, Minho sleeps through every single movie we watch, I don’t think he gives a either way. If anything he’s just annoyed that Key’s screams always wake him up.”

Taemin is, thankfully, correct in saying it looks worse than it actually is. By the time Jonghyun has wiped away the blood and dabbed gently at the raised red lines, Taemin’s thighs don’t look so shredded. He catches Taemin looking at them almost wistfully and quickly asks, “We could nip out to the food store and grab some snacks if you’d like?”

Taemin nods like an excited five-year-old and Jonghyun kisses his left thigh in a place where there are no scratches.

“Hey baby, will you lie on your front please?” Taemin does so with a quiet sigh of defeat, but otherwise no contest and Jonghyun jumps up on the table and kneels beside him. He sets to work on the backs of the maknae’s thighs, swallowing hard at the brown-red, dried blood.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he says. It slips out. He hadn’t meant to say it out-loud, for fear of somehow triggering the younger man or ruining the sort of calm they have settled into.

Taemin’s body tenses beneath his hands, then all the muscles release and he lets out a quiet hum into his arms where they’re folded on the table. Jonghyun takes this as permission and as he scrubs at tanned skin with the antiseptic, he states, “I love you. You’re beautiful. I love how muscular your thighs are. I want to kiss every single scratch. I want to kiss every part of you, full stop. Especially your pouty lips. Have I mentioned how much I love those? A lot, if you were in any doubt…”

When he’s done, he kisses up the ridge of Taemin’s spine through the thin white pyjama shirt he’s wearing, then rolls Taemin onto his back to kiss Taemin’s lips. Taemin’s hands come up to dance up and down Jonghyun’s legs, Jonghyun’s arms, but the emotional turmoil has taken more out of Jonghyun than he likes to admit. Taemin can tell though, from the way Jonghyun slumps over him more than gracefully curves, so they pull apart quickly. They stumble to Taemin’s room, not wanting to disturb the others, and chose clothes for each other then quietly brush their teeth and write a note to the rest so they won’t worry.

Just before they leave the house, before they step out of the door where they need to hide their identities behind facemasks and jacket hoods just to buy crappy food from the shop down the street, and need to hide their relationship constantly, Taemin tugs Jonghyun around and kisses him hard.

“I’m sorry. I mean, thanks and. I really am sorry, you know that, right? I don’t want you to worry-“

Jonghyun rolls his eyes, smile soft and oozing fond. “Shut up and kiss me,” he mutters. Taemin complies.

“I love you,” Taemin whispers against his lips.

“Love you too, Tae.”

When they come offstage, arms slung around each other’s shoulders, Key and Taemin don’t drop the fan service act and move apart as expected. Instead Key tickles his fingers across Taemin’s shoulders, down his arm, then threads their fingers together. He squeezes firmly and Taemin smiles, both of them caught up in each other and unaware of the raised eyebrows.

The coffee machine has spewed out Taemin’s cappuccino and he’s just stirring in sugar and cinnamon powder when Jinki comes up and puts his mug beneath the machine. Subconsciously, the elder man presses close, chest flush to Taemin’s back, and wraps his arms around Taemin’s thin waist. Taemin likes it when he does that. He leans back against his leader’s steady warmth, resting his head on Jinki’s shoulder until Jinki’s coffee is done. Then they stand side-by-side, nudging hips as Jinki dumps sugar into his black coffee, before returning to their dressing room, not paying any attention to the curious gazes they receive for their intimacy.

After their second appearance onstage, Minho gives Taemin a piggyback all the way to the bathroom, then on to the snack table. He rests his chin on Taemin’s hair and makes Taemin shuffle with him to fulfil his eating whims. Minho laughs when the younger grumbles about being used as a headrest and drapes his arms around Taemin’s neck, nuzzling his nose into Taemin’s nape and breathing in the familiar smell; the scent of lavender and tea-tree from the shampoo Taemin steals from Key.

Taemin catches Jonghyun at one point, tugging him aside into an empty changing room. Jonghyun’s exhausted by now, despite his reasonably good sleep last night. One comparatively good night doesn’t magically restore close to three weeks worth of sleeplessness. He stumbles as Taemin drags him by his arm.

“You told them, didn’t you?”

“I did.” Jonghyun is devastated by the betrayal that flashes through Taemin’s eyes, swiftly followed by melancholic acceptance. God, all these emotions are draining Jonghyun’s energy faster than an upside-down bucket spills water. He scrambles to compose himself, to explain. “I couldn’t. I’m sorry baby, I couldn’t keep that to myself.” Taemin nods reluctantly and Jonghyun draws him into a hug. Taemin hunches to slot beneath Jonghyun’s chin. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t tell Jinki.”

Taemin starts, looking up so fast he almost smashes his head into Jonghyun’s chin. Jonghyun jerks away a second late, reactions delayed by his tiredness. “Wait, what? You didn’t?”

“No, I,” Jonghyun swallows. He feels guilty about that, guilty that they all know except for the one whom probably needs to know the most, but the unadulterated relief and gratefulness painted across Taemin’s face makes him feel slightly better. “I thought you had a point. About him taking it to heart and ending up hurting himself. Of course all of us are taking this to heart Taemin, of course we are. Just…not like he would.”

“Thank you so much,” Taemin breathes, pressing forward to fervently kiss Jonghyun’s cheeks and nose and forehead. Jonghyun blushes under the affection, sagging slightly into Taemin’s supportive hands. His back hurts. His back has been hurting for three weeks now. ing insomnia.

Taemin pauses then suddenly grins widely. “I could tell because everyone was being so overtly-affectionate, you know? But by everyone, I mean Jinki-hyung too and he didn’t even know.” Taemin looks so happy, so blissfully happy. “I guess I never appreciated the fact that Jinki acts that way to me all the time.”

“He really loves you.” Jonghyun murmurs, grinning, wearily, in automatic response to Taemin’s delight. “We all do. I guess we’re just not as open with it as Jinki is.”

Taemin laughs, “If you were, I don’t think our relationship would stay secret for very long!”

Blinking the tiredness away, Jonghyun smiles wryly, “Yeah, probably a good thing then.” Still chuckling, they leave the room, only to be immediately caught by their manager, and ordered them unceremoniously back to the dressing room. The others are waiting for them, all looking confused. Jonghyun has a headache. His head has been hurting for three weeks now. Insomnia.

Their manager locks the door and whirls to them, expression anxious and wretched but, overwhelmingly, furious.

“What the do you think you’re playing at?” They all recoil, Jonghyun a second late again. “Do you know how many people have come up to me and ‘subtly inquired as to the nature of your relationships’? Do you, goddamnit?

“I’ve been lying through my teeth for you, but it’s no wonder I keep getting disbelieving looks in return for my efforts when you’re all hanging off each other. What is this, a competition to see who can flirt with Taemin in the most conspicuous way possible?” They wince at that. Well, Key and Jonghyun and Minho wince, glancing worriedly at Taemin. The maknae is completely frozen, eyes fixed on the floor.

“Do you know how much you’re risking for this? How much I’m risking just allowing you to do this? Sometimes I really don’t think you do, because if you did, perhaps you’d use your ing brains and work out it’s not the time nor the place.” He moves his glare to focus on Jonghyun now, eyes piercingly harsh, and body language all barely-suppressed aggression. Jonghyun shrinks back, feeling his headache worsen, tightening its grip around his temples.

“After all your hard work, I can’t believe you’re being so idiotic as to risk everything. Is this insane polygamous really worth it? I’ve tried to be understanding, tried to help but there’s a ing limit.” He’s hissing loudly, not shouting for fear of eavesdropping, and each sentence spat in their faces twists a knife deeper into Jonghyun’s gut. It’s one thing to question these things in your head, but another entirely to have somebody in a senior position of management irately voice those fears aloud.

Jonghyun starts crying.

One second he’s much the same as his band mates, just sitting there, pinching the back of one hand to stop himself from lashing out physically or verbally. The next moment, he in a huge breath, chokes on the air, and lets out a sob.

Their manager stutters in his admonishment. “Jonghyun-ssi?”

Jonghyun can’t reply, suddenly crying so hard he can hardly see, can hardly breathe. Beside him on the sofa, his band mates recoil in shock. He cries harder.

“Sorry, I’m just really tired and you were yelling and I just. I’m sorry, sorry, just ignore me. , this is embarrassing.” Jinki is the first to recover, tucking Jonghyun into his side and giving the manager a look of equal-parts anger and apology over the younger man’s head.

“Please don’t cry Jjong,” begs Key, sliding from the sofa to crouch on the floor at Jonghyun’s feet, rubbing Jonghyun’s legs in an attempt to comfort him. He has his back to their manager, blatantly ignoring him. “Come on, darling, don’t do this. We can get you home in an hour and then you can sleep, ok?”

“An hour?” Jonghyun chokes out hysterically, “But I want to sleep now.”

Key’s face crumples in sympathy. “We can’t leave yet darling.”

“I’m sorry, this is my fault. If you guys weren’t trying to comfort me or whatever-“

“Taemin, please don’t say that,” pleads Minho, feeling sick at the way Jonghyun is crying and horrified at the way Taemin has curled in on himself, eyes squeezed shut in self-blame. On Taemin’s other side, still holding Jonghyun, Jinki looks confused.

Their manager throws up his hands in defeat.

“I won’t press the issue further tonight,” he says, all of them quieting to hear his verdict, “But you sure as hell can expect emails in your inboxes, emails detailing exactly what you should and should not be doing in public. You’d better learn the contents off by heart.” Jonghyun sobs particularly loudly and Jinki squeezes him closer. Their manager hunches a little and his eyes soften. “I don’t want a repeat of this. I hate yelling at you, I really do, but this is my job and your dream and I don’t want to see you throw it away in a single night of carelessness.”

He sighs deeply, dragging a hand down his face as they look on expectantly, understandingly. “Look, I’ll wrangle some stuff, talk to some people and we’ll leave early. Just wipe your make-up off, gather your together and somebody please make Jonghyun stop crying? Minho, call the car. When I see you again on Wednesday you’d better act…better.” He nods at them, then leaves the room with a hesitant but resolved stride.

When he wakes, Jonghyun feels completely rested. Which makes him panic because he's sure they have a schedule to get to early in the morning. Jinki had been stressing about it because the show they're scheduled for is infamous for springing unusual and often personal questions. He flails as he slaps around the bed searching for his phone, presses the main button and relaxes. Phew. Only 3am.

"Wait what?" he hisses into the darkness. How had he failed to notice that the room is still dark, the sky in the gap between the curtains still star-speckled black?

Furthermore, how does he feel so well rested? For the first time in ages. Last time he felt this energetic was the day they'd watched Howl's Moving Castle and Taemin and Key had almost got recognised when they snuck out to get ice-cream.

Jonghyun stretches deliciously, revelling in the strength of his muscles and the loud crack of his bones. It's early as but he's not tempted to go back to sleep. He wants to enjoy his wakefulness while it lasts. He's in Taemin's bed, and the maknae twitches at the sound of Jonghyun rustling the sheets, then rolls over and snuffles into the pillow. Jonghyun grins and ruffles Taemin's hair gently, then carefully climbs over him and saunters to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face.

Jonghyun's bare feet stick slightly to the wooden floorboards as he makes his way to the living room after changing into work out kit, socks and trainers in hand, determined to work out whilst he actually feels strong enough. Then he can drop by the studios - it'll be open by 5, because Super Junior are recording their new album and have been up at ungodly hours for the last month doing the vocals - and he's sure they'll be able to spare him a private studio and he'll be able to finally finish those last adlibs. Then he can go eat breakfast somewhere, then he can go shopping and buy Key those shorts he's been pining after for the last week, then he can come back and get ready for that radio show, then he can-

"Jinki-hyung? Why are you awake?"