Infinite files into their room backstage after their performance, chests heaving and adrenaline rushing in their blood (two years and they still haven’t gotten past the fear, the nervousness, the anticipation).

Woohyun seats himself down on a chair, breathing hard and eyes staring straight at his reflection in the mirror. He closes his eyes and his fingers curl tightly, nails digging crescents into his palms. Five weeks, he thinks to himself.

It’s been five weeks of promotions. Five weeks and only one win.

Woohyun knows he’s being ungrateful. And he shouldn’t. He should be thankful, be content, be happy. It’s a blessing to be able to do something that you love, he has heard many a time. And in all honestly, Woohyun loves little else more than he does music.

Which is even more reason for him not to be counting their wins. He shouldn’t be feeling the way he does. It’s bitter, repulsive and he wants nothing but to expel it from his system. What should be most important is that he’s doing what makes him happy. He’s singing. He’s dancing. It’s music and it’s everything that is to him.

Woohyun shouldn’t want for much else. But he finds that he does anyway.

There are fingers, warm and familiar, settling over his and Woohyun lifts his eyelids, glancing up. Sunggyu has his gaze focused on their hands, gently prying Woohyun’s fingers from their clenched fists.

He frowns as his leader tugs at his thumb, straightening out his fingers and covering them with his own. Sunggyu’s face is carefully devoid of emotion but Woohyun has always been able to see what others cannot (even back in the days when they both hated each other's guts) and right now, there is fatigue in his eyes, something painfully similar to resignation in the way his shoulders are slumped forward.

“Hyung.” Woohyun whispers, hands squeezing Sunggyu’s. “It’s okay.” His leader answers and even though his voice doesn’t waver, Woohyun hears the tremble in it anyway. “It’s okay even if we don’t win, Woohyun-ah.”

It’s a lie if there ever was one. Because the thing is, it’s not okay. It’s not.

They win.

And Woohyun doesn’t know what to think. He’s overwhelmed by waves of gratitude, happiness and guilt – so much guilt for having ever doubted his fans but overpowering that guilt is what he recognizes to be shameful relief and deep down in his heart, Woohyun is disgusted with himself. Because really, how could he?

He feels rather than hears Sunggyu’s sharp intake of breath beside him. A grip to his shoulder and they’re hugging before he can process much of anything else; Sunggyu’s arms around his neck and Woohyun’s own hands on Sunggyu’s back.

He takes the microphone in place of Sunggyu, knowing full well that his leader will cry if he speaks and Sunggyu has vowed once before to never spill tears in public – only ever letting his guard down in the privacy of a dark room and when shielded with Woohyun’s arms around him.

Woohyun trips over his words. Funny, he thinks, considering how often he has rehearsed this speech in his mind, deluded by hopeful and happy daydreams. But reality is overwhelming and all that goes through Woohyun’s mind and spills out past his lips is kamsahamnida, kamsahamnida, kamsahamnida.

Thank you for loving us.

Thank you for loving me.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

(And although it isn’t spoken out loud, lingering in the air and only to be heard by him and Sunggyu are also his quiet whispers of sorry, sorry, sorry.)

Author's Note; So, this. It's definitely not one of my best. But I was watching Music Bank live that evening and I just. I don't know. The boys looked happy, of course they looked happy. But the thing that striked me the most was that they looked almost relieved too. It was as though they were afraid that they wouldn't win. And I figured that if I was an idol, this would be how I feel; forever grateful, happy to an extent but always, always fearful of not being able to succeed. Thank you for reading <3