For references as to what Jihoon and Soonyoung look like during this story, refer to 1, 2, 3, or 4.

The song in this chapter is Little Lion Man by Mumford and Sons. The version Seungcheol and Jihoon will perform is an acoustic version, similar to this cover here. Have a listen while you read if you are curious as to how it sounds like! 

Sorry for the very long wait on this chapter (two months!!!), but school finally wrapped up and I could get back to writing this very... tedious... chapter... Nevertheless, do enjoy and leave a comment down below and tell me your thoughts on this chapter and what you think would happen in the following chapters. Thank you for supporting this story!!

(I have a Seventeen fanblog!! Follow me if you'd like and you can ask me any questions about my fics or just chat!!)

***

Jihoon knew immediately whenever Soonyoung was drunk. Firstly, Soonyoung’s olive-toned skin would always turn a ruddy pink: a flush that started high on his cheekbones and trailed down to his jaw and faded away near his neck.  Secondly, he would be dreadfully honest, and surprisingly sombre. Contrary to his usually happy-go-lucky and bright demeanour, Soonyoung after a couple beers preferred to sit on a couch, nursing his next bottle and telling whoever would listen about the time he had his first love, or the first time he understood the value of being clever in today’s society. Lastly, he would become astonishingly soft around the edges. He would become a tad too touchy- a hand on the thigh, a caress on the cheek, a palm pressed flat on the small of the back. Jihoon was only all too familiar with Soonyoung when he was drunk, and that’s why he recognised it immediately when he returned to their room after a day of practice with Seungcheol.

Jihoon initially refused to go to practice, planning on boycotting it in favour for a nap, but Seungcheol caught him after their Nature and Development of Acoustic Music lecture, pulling yet another impressive set of puppy-dog eyes on him. Jihoon conceded and found that he actually had some fun working out the chords of Little Lion Man with Seungcheol- a much needed reprieve from the issues that had been weighing on his mind recently.  

But, as Jihoon stepped into the room, he was greeted with Soonyoung perched on the edge of his bed, a bottle of Pliny in his hands and a contemplative look on his face. Soonyoung looked up as Jihoon entered the room, a brief glance before returning to stare at the label on his beer. Jihoon rolled his eyes and dropped his jacket and bag on his bed, only to take a step over to Soonyoung and pluck the beer out of his hands. Soonyoung was surprisingly pliant, even for his drunken state, and Jihoon squinted at him, and couldn’t help but feel a little worried. He only just then noticed that Radiohead’s Creep was playing softly from the speakers of Soonyoung’s phone. Jihoon knew immediately that Soonyoung was playing his Songs for the Saddest Days playlist. Jihoon was there when he made it, and even suggested a few songs to be put on, Creep being one of them.

(“I know I’m pretty cheerful, but I figured that there are some ty days to come. And when they come, I want a playlist for that. I have to be prepared, right? And since you’re a Music major, you’re the perfect person to help me compile the saddest songs,” Soonyoung had enthused, smile so bright that it was hard to believe someone who was like the sun personified could ever be sad.

“Like you would ever be sad,” Jihoon scoffed, but leaning over to look at Soonyoung’s laptop anyway, missing the suddenly wistful look in Soonyoung’s eyes.)

Hold On by Sarah McLachlan started playing as Jihoon set the bottle down on the side table. He cautiously took a seat beside Soonyoung, looping an arm around his waist.

“What’s wrong, bud?” he asked. Soonyoung didn’t reply, but he did lean in closer to Jihoon, bending to press his head into Jihoon’s neck. It was times like this Jihoon wished he was better at comforting people, so he didn’t feel like an entire sack of useless with nothing to say and only a hug to offer.

“Is it Jackson?” Jihoon prompted, his voice soft and careful. Soonyoung made a noise that Jihoon could only call a whimper, and pressed his head more insistently into Jihoon, as if he could bury himself in Jihoon and avoid the world around him.

Jihoon was at a loss. He was never very skilled in dealing with Sad People. When he saw his younger sister cry over her second breakup, he shamefully hid away in his room until she stopped crying, feeling too awkward to even attempt to cheer her up. When his friend in high school cried over a broken ankle that forced him to withdraw from the Track and Field nationals, Jihoon offered a stiff hug and then promptly avoided him from the rest of the day. When he saw his baby brother cry for the first time on the day he was born, Jihoon scrunched up his nose and gingerly patted his head while the rest of his family cooed over him.

Seungcheol liked to call it an Complex and Jihoon felt compelled to agree.

“He didn’t love me, Jihoon,” Soonyoung said, voice so soft that Jihoon had to strain to hear. “I knew that from the start, but he told me. This morning, he said that he didn’t love me and that I was too much of a risk. He said that I wasn’t worth wasting a degree and risking his stability for. I knew, I knew, but it ing hurt, Jihoonie.”

“I can’t look at the dance studio without thinking of him, Jihoon. I can’t even think about dancing right now. It’s my ing life; what will I do now?” Soonyoung sobbed, body shaking. Jihoon did not know what to say. If he was cut off of all access to music because of a man he loved, he would be a wreck. If every song that he wrote carried the signature of his heartbreak, if every note sung held the grief of a love long lost, if just looking at his producing studio brought about unshakeable sorrow, Jihoon would no longer be himself. He had a feeling that Soonyoung was experiencing those ‘ifs’, and Jihoon could only hold him as close as possible to offer all the comfort he could using his touch.

It was a while before the crying stopped, and Soonyoung looked up at Jihoon, nose swollen and red. Jihoon stared back, and after a few short seconds, reflexively wiped away the tear streaks on Soonyoung’s cheek, hand then falling to cup his jaw. Soonyoung wasn’t a beautiful crier, not by a long shot, but Jihoon could not stop looking all the same. Soonyoung bowed his head down, nestling into Jihoon’s palm.

“You’re too good to me,” Soonyoung whispered, and Jihoon felt as if he should not have heard that.

***

Jihoon did not expect for Soonyoung to show up for his performance at After Hours, but there he was, right at the front, sprawled on a bright purple bean bag with a can of beer in his hand and a weak smile on his face. He had terrible dark eye circles, and Jihoon knew that it was because he hadn’t been sleeping well, if he ever managed to fall asleep. Even at 4am, Jihoon would be awakened by Soonyoung’s incessant tossing and turning, or the dim light from his laptop on nights where he had given up on sleeping. Any conversation Jihoon and Soonyoung had post-his and Jackson’s breakup was stifled and short- only brief greetings and niceties as they chanced upon each other on common breaks or at the end of the day.

Soonyoung waved at Jihoon with his free hand, and Jihoon nodded his head, his fingers busy fiddling with his guitar. Seungcheol glanced knowingly at Jihoon as he checked the microphones, and nudged him with his foot.

“What,” Jihoon hissed.

“You guys made up?” Seungcheol asked, kicking at the cords on the floor.

Jihoon looked at Soonyoung again, who was talking to the girl next to him- someone Jihoon vaguely recognised from walking past the dance studio on his way to the campus Starbucks. “Not really,” Jihoon turned his attention back to his guitar, chewing on his bottom lip nervously.

Seungcheol rolled his eyes and kicked Jihoon’s foot, signalling for him to get ready. He turned to the audience and tapped on the microphone, fixing a bright beam on his face.

“Good evening After Hours,” he began- his voice low and soothing. “We are Seungcheol and Jihoon, and we will be performing Little Lion Man for you.”

A few people clapped politely, and Jihoon felt his stomach clench. He was always nervous before a show, and Soonyoung being there did not make him any more at ease. Jihoon shook out his right hand and tapped once, twice, thrice on the body of his guitar to cue Seungcheol in and played the tune that had become familiar to him in the past weeks.

Weep for yourself, my man,
You'll never be what is in your heart
Weep, little lion man,
You're not as brave as you were at the start

Jihoon had a perfect view of Soonyoung from his seat on the stage, and he watched as Soonyoung’s smile drop as Seungcheol sang the first verse, and Jihoon intuitively knew that the lyrics of the song resonated with Soonyoung and his situation in that moment. He suddenly dreaded singing his verse, for fear of watching Soonyoung’s expression fall even more.

(He knew Soonyoung had this façade he put on in public that only displayed the cheery side of him even if he might be feeling anything else but.

“People already have enough to deal with, y’know?” Soonyoung explained, when Jihoon asked why he bothered to force himself to appear happy. “Seeing another face that looks like it has just seen hell isn’t going to make them believe in life’s goodness and all that , but seeing someone like me smile all the time is bound to make someone perk up a little.”)

Jihoon in a deep breath. “Rate yourself and rake yourself; take all the courage you have left,” he started, praying for his voice to not tremble. “And waste it on fixing all the problems that you made in your own head.”

Seungcheol cast a sidelong look at Jihoon, a frown on his lips. He knew that Jihoon was more professional than to mess up a performance because of his own thoughts or any external distraction, but he never did have a distraction quite like Soonyoung. He could see Soonyoung, small in the beanbag and fingers clenched around his beer, face looking like death had struck him. Even then, he had never heard Jihoon sing or play like how he was. His voice was thick and raw with emotion, and he was managing the guitar perfectly despite the tricky rhythm and the trouble he had with it during practice.

“But it was not your fault but mine, and it was your heart on the line. I really ed it up this time- didn't I, my dear?” Jihoon sang, strumming out the last riff. Seungcheol glanced over again, and he saw that Jihoon’s eyes were screwed shut, his head was bowed down, and his shoulders were tight. “Didn’t I, my dear?” he crooned, lips kissing the microphone.

Seungcheol grinned as the small crowd applauded. He could hear Mingyu’s voice whooping, even if he couldn’t see him in the dark room. He reached over and clapped Jihoon on the back, pulling him up by the bicep and pushing him to the front of the stage. He stepped back and clapped enthusiastically, feeling that it was only right to give Jihoon the spotlight for this performance. He saw Soonyoung stand and clap fiercely for Jihoon- and surprisingly, he was crying. Seungcheol had never seen Soonyoung with so much as a frown on any other day, but yet, here he was in After Hours, tears streaking his cheeks.

Jihoon blushed pink and bowed, fingers tight around the neck of his guitar. Seungcheol stepped around him and took the guitar, pressing a hand to the small of his back. “Go to him,” Seungcheol whispered. Jihoon blushed harder but hopped off the front of the stage, meeting Soonyoung in a bruising hug.

“Are you okay?” Jihoon whispered, tightening his arms around Soonyoung.

“I will be,” Soonyoung sniffed loudly, pulling back. “You ing killed it. I was crying like a baby, and it hit me really hard, y’know? Your voice and how you sang- it was perfect.”

Soonyoung ruffled Jihoon’s hair, knowing that he was one of the few people Jihoon would let touch his hair, and grinned- his face bright even though his eyes were bloodshot and his nose was puffy from crying. “I’m going to fix myself- you know I can’t let a stupid man me up too bad.”

“And you know I’ll help,” Jihoon returned the smile, his heart resting easy for the first time in a week. They squeezed onto the purple beanbag, pressed into each other, shoulders knocking.

“I can lose a damn war all by myself, if you were on the other side,” the girl on stage sang, blonde hair shining under the harsh lights. The bangles on her wrist clanked as she swayed side to side, eyes closed and cheeks flushed. “If you're walkin' through hell and high water, please don't do it alone.”