Yongguk had been upset and aggravated for a while now: ever since Jongup had comfortably texted Himchan that he won’t be able to make it to the production studio until another couple of hours – which had long passed them. Yongguk held himself together, of course – since everyone else was here and they were doing well so far. The discussions were going well – and the new lyricist was much liked by Yongguk. He was nearly his own age, and was full of exciting ideas. Himchan was suggesting he could even help out with a new instrument – and the only thing that was distracting Yongguk was how Jongup wasn’t here.

How dare he? Just how many times has Yongguk talked to him about how important it is to be at where they had promised to be at the right time? Given the years Yongguk had spent with Jongup he himself is expecting to be less concerned over Jongups usual absence and his habit of running late for everything, but he’s not. Yongguk knows that Jongup doesn’t very particularly like being nagged about this matter; but Yongguk can’t help it since he never learns!

Everyone, including the rest of the members, and their staff alike, had given up on asking Jongups about it all the time. But he can’t do that either, somehow. He doesn’t understand Jongup. The only thing he pays his mind to is choreography and even to that he’s late! Late, late, late. Always late.

At the end of his wit, Yongguk pulls out his phone after a short and rude excuse. He threatens Jongup over a text to be ing here now or else. Jongup actually replies almost instantly. “I’m on my way! There’s just so much traffic on the road. I’ll be there in thirty minutes. I’m sorry.”

Yongguk slightly grunts. See, that’s what he does. He says he’s sorry with his puppy eyes and adds that he will not be late again. But he is! Knowing this and yet, Yongguk can make himself the person who can’t have faith in him. It sincerely conflicts him why he’s trying to go to such lengths to keep Jongup on schedule, but he does, anyway. He feels responsible. Or he blames having to be responsible on why he nags Jongup so much. He makes it work both ways.

It only took him a minute, but when he tunes back into the conversation, it feels like he had been left behind. Youngjae suddenly says that around fifteen songs for the next full album sounds alright, and Yongguk goes: what on earth? Himchan tunes him back in, saying that it’s for the album after the mini, but Yongguk finds the whole idea of it completely crushing him. He wonders if it isn’t too soon to have plans so far ahead, and it worries him – given that he had first handedly experienced how plans without methods of appropriate routes of execution could backfire big time.

Somehow, he’s not paying attention at all. When a certain question is directed at him, he manages to concentrate and answer sensibly, but otherwise, he’s going somewhere he shouldn’t in his mind. He’s been told not to think about it; whenever he feels like his thoughts are weighing too much on him. Yongguk has no liking whatsoever for panic attacks or experiencing them again, so he tries so desperately not to think about what happened, and what could happen at their worst. And he manages, for the next two hours. Somehow.

When the meeting ends about production, Yongguk is just relieved. The visitors leave, and Yongguk wishes for some time alone. The team members exchange glances, and Himchan at least asked ten times if Yongguk would mind if Himchan took him back to the dorm with him. But Yongguk insisted not to, knowing that he has already worried s enough. In his place, they have been asking Jongup countless time to be punctual too, they really do so too much for him.

Finally, given having Yongguk insist; Himchan and the rest decide to leave him to some space. And barely ten minutes pass in silence before Yongguk finds himself drowning in thoughts he shouldn’t have in his mind.

But he can’t help it.

He can’t help worrying, and worrying –