“Hyung, where are you going?”

It’s a question asked way too often by Jihoon, and if he’s honest, Jiho is sick of it. He hates lying, especially to Jihoon, who is so innocent and childlike it’s so hard to lie to his face. The answer is always the same, though.

“The studio. Gotta work.”

As always, Jihoon’s face creases up, with that little furrow between his eyebrows that only shows up when he’s worried making their appearance. He isn’t the only one who’s worried. Every single member of Block B is concerned about Jiho’s frequent disappearances to his studio. One by one, they’ve all been woken up by their leader stumbling home at five in the morning (or later) and have heard him collapse into bed only to have to get up two hours later. The makeup noonas have noticed, too, and the amount of concealer that goes onto Jiho’s face every day is enough to last any of the other members’ for weeks.

Jihoon stares at his hyung’s retreating back, and every fibre of his being yearns to go after him. He worries about Jiho. They all do.

//

Jiho doesn’t know what draws him to his studio, this warm, comforting place that has felt more homely than the dorm lately. He only knows that something is pulling him in, pulling him to his desk, where he pours out his soul into his lyrics. He doesn’t know if his inability to stop working is a symptom or the cause of the stress he’s been feeling lately, but he can’t bring himself to stop. The music has been his only friend.

Except tonight he can’t focus. His mind keeps drifting back to Jihoon’s worried face – those two dimples. He feels incredibly guilty for being the cause of them. After all, isn’t he meant to be the leader? The protector?

He gives up on his laptop and spins his chair around, looking at his studio, at his new home. He eyes the couch, which looks incredibly inviting at – he checks his watch – 4:30 in the morning. However he learnt his lesson when, once, having crashed on it and slept instead of going back to the dorm, he was woken up at 9 by the furious banging on the door by s, who were incredibly concerned about his whereabouts. It was just easier on everyone for him to go home.

He stands up, stretches, and ambles over to the couch to put on his shoes. They have another big day tomorrow, so he should do his best to not get home too late.

//

It’s 5 am, and Jihoon is sitting at his desk, feet tucked underneath him, typing away at his keyboard. He hasn’t been able to sleep, hasn’t been able to get the image of their leader alone in his studio, probably in the same position as him.

Jihoon is trying his hand at writing lyrics. He knows his feeble attempts can’t even come close to Jiho’s artistry, but he tries anyway. He writes about love (which he knows nothing of), hurt (which he knows a lot of) and the usual idol crap about being the best (nega jail jal naga he thinks to himself; it’s one of his favourites. Of course, his hyungs about loving 2ne1. He even has a bit of a crush on Dara noona). He is too shy to show his work to Jiho, knowing his hyung would probably laugh.

He takes his headphones out for a minute and stretches and cracks his neck, and then freezes. Was that the front door? He listens carefully and yes, sure enough, there’s the beeping of the electronic lock as it lets someone in.

Only one person could be coming in this late – Jiho. He gets up out of his chair so hurriedly he trips and falls over the charger cord on the way to the door, yanking his laptop off the desk and to the ground with a clatter. Inwardly, he groaned. Taeil’s room is next door to him and the walls are very thin; he’s probably woken him up, who in turn will wake up Minhyuk.

He quickly untangles himself from the cord and yanks open the door to see Jiho’s retreating back heading towards his room. He stares after him, daring to utter, “Jiho?”

//

Jiho turns and there’s Jihoon, in nothing but an oversized t-shirt, pyjama pants and socks, his hair sticking straight up, looking at Jiho like he’s a lost puppy.

“Jiho, are you okay?” His deep voice comes rumbling out to Jiho from the darkness. God, that voice. Jiho is half envious, half angry at it.

He can’t stand the way Jihoon is looking at him, with that stupid furrow between his eyebrows distracting him. It’s too early for this. Or too late. Whichever.

“Don’t look at me like that, dongsaeng.” Jiho turns and slams the door to his room.

//

Ouch, is what Jihoon thinks. Jiho only calls him dongsaeng when he’s really mad. The only one who really calls him that is Taeil, the oldest, and Jihoon doesn’t mind. But Jiho is not even a year older than him, and Jihoon detests being called dongsaeng by someone so close in age to him. It’s disrespectful, but he doesn’t care.

Not that he’d ever say that to Jiho.

He shuts his door and leans against it heavily.

Another concert tomorrow, and after that they were filming an ad. Jiho would have two hours sleep to do all that.

Jihoon sighs and pads over to pick up the laptop. Jiho would be okay; he would just have some energy drinks and coffee and be back to his normal self.