It’s 2:15 in the morning, two weeks after Jiho called Jihoon dongsaeng. If anything, Jiho has been getting more reserved and withdrawn.

Jihoon is striding down the street, 2ne1 blasting in his ears and a frown on his face. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, going to the studio – Jiho will just tell him to go home with that look on his face. Maybe even call him dongsaeng again.

But all the same, he can’t bring himself to turn around and head back to the dorm, back to his warm bed and pyjamas. He knows he wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.

It’s lucky the studio is just a 10 minute walk from the dorm, he thinks. I can be in and out checking on Jiho before anyone notices I’m gone. Taeil had been sitting in the lounge room when Jihoon had let himself out; his hyung had simply raised an eyebrow and turned back to his phone. Jihoon had mumbled something about getting some ramen (despite there being packets in the cupboard; they both knew this) and slipped out the door.

As he reaches the studio door and lets himself in, his heart begins to race. It’s just Jiho. Even if he’s mad, it’s no big deal. I’ll just go back home and go to bed.

Despite his reassurances to himself, as he takes the stairs two-by-two and stands in front of Jiho’s door, posed to knock, he still hesitates. Then, realizing he’s still got 2ne1 playing through his headphones, pulls out his phone and unplugs them but –oh, god damn it - he drops his phone with a clatter on the concrete.

He cringes at the noise that echoes up and down the staircase, and sure enough, on the other side of the door, he hears the thump thump of approaching footsteps and there’s Jiho, opening the door with a curious expression on his face, and now it’s Jihoon’s heart going thump thump.

“Jihoonie? What are you doing here?”

Jiho’s use of the nickname relaxes Jihoon and he scoops up his now-cracked phone off the ground with a lopsided smile. “I’m checking up on my hyung and making sure he’s not working himself into the ground.”

Jiho bites his lower lip and swings the door open to let Jihoon in. He’s wearing trackpants and a t-shirt, his hair looking ridiculous and unbrushed like he’s been running his hands through it. Jihoon steps inside and Jiho shuts the door behind him and a waft of Jiho-smell washes over him. He knows it too well.

Jihoon seats himself on the lounge and examines his phone. It’s really, really broken. Crap. He sighs and tries to turn it on; the screen goes white and the phone lets out a screeching noise in protest.

Jiho watches with his arms crossed over his chest and a barely-hidden smirk on his face. Jihoon is the clumsiest of the group and this is the fifth phone in as many months that he’s broken.

“You know, Jihoonie, I’m not buying you a new one this time.” Jiho joked.

“Jico-ah, if I asked, I know you’d hit me across the head at my audacity.” Jihoon said, putting his phone back into his pocket and looking around the studio.

Jesus, what the hell had happened to this place? The desk is spotless, with just Jiho’s two computers on it, but the rest of the floor is covered in clothes, ramen packets, pizza boxes, and other detritus that Jihoon can't identify. The last time he’d seen this place it was spotless, but now…

Jiho sits down next to him, and Jihoon looks down at his hands. He can feel Jiho’s eyes on him, and his heart beats faster, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t, look at the older man. Why had he come here, anyway? Stupid idea.

“Hyung-”

“Jihoon-”

They both speak at once, and look at each other, startled, before laughing.

“Hyung, you go first.” Jihoon offers.

Jiho looks away before answering. “Why did you come here, Jihoonie?”

Jihoon’s eyes drop to his hands again, which he is wringing, a telltale sign he is worried or stressed – all the members knew this. “I… We are all worried about you, hyung. Why are you working so hard? We only just finished promoting Her. We have some free time, to have fun, but you shut yourself up in here. I’m… We are all concerned.”

Nice one, idiot.

Jiho chews his lip. “I don’t know, Jihoonie. I just can’t seem to stay away from this place. I don’t know why. It… it calls to me.”

He sounds so earnest, so honest, that before Jihoon knew what he is doing, he is resting his head on his hyung’s shoulder.

//

Jiho stiffens at the weight. Jihoon’s black hair tickles his cheek, and his head rises and falls in time with Jiho’s breathing. But all the same, this felt… nice. Comforting. Jiho lifts his arm and puts it around Jihoon, pulling him closer.

//

Jihoon doesn't really know what the hell he is doing, only that it felt right and nice to have his head there. When Jiho pulls him closer, he closes his eyes and smiles.

They sit like that in silence.

//

A week later and Jihoon is once again on a midnight trek to the studio. For a few days after they had sat together like that, Jiho hadn’t gone to the studio at night, and had even had dinner and watched TV with the rest of them; Taeil had heaped praise upon the youngest member for bringing Jiho out of his shell.

It hadn’t lasted forever, though. After three nights, Jiho was back to being holed up in the studio.

And now Jihoon couldn’t keep away, just like Jiho. Maybe there was something about that place that drew people in.

Or maybe it was just Jiho.

//

As he opens the door with the key Jiho had slipped under his door one night (the accompanying note said “bring food next time”; Jihoon had chuckled at this – it was so like Jiho) he doesn't know what he will find.

What he doesn't expect is Jiho asleep on the couch, legs and arms askew, mouth open and snoring delicately. Jihoon holds back a laugh as he puts the keys on the desk and takes off his shoes.

Jiho looks cute when he’s sleeping.

Jihoon grabs a blanket off the end of the lounge and drapes it over the sleeping figure; Jiho grabs it and rolls over, away from Jihoon, muttering sleepy noises.

Jihoon sits down heavily on the desk chair and spins around aimlessly. He is tired, but he can't leave Jiho, not while he is sleeping. He feels strangely protective of the older man.

Maybe it's because in his sleep, his face is smooth, unmarred by the worries and stresses the day brings. In fact, Jihoon thinks with a smile as Jiho rolls over and opens his mouth – he looks young.

He is young, really. Barely 21. But he seems older somehow - people often assume he is the oldest (they always guess Jihoon is the youngest, however, much to his chagrin. Is he really the most immature?) instead of Taeil, and he lives up to that reputation.

Jihoon spins around in the chair and waits for Jiho to wake up, waits to bring him home.