His palms are slick with the same cold sweat that trickles between his shoulder blades, drawing icy fingers down the valley of his spine. His hands are twitchy and jumping in front of him, like the wooden paws of a marionette, puppeted by a child. He yanks with one of them at the knot of his bulky tie, pulling it from his already tight throat. His suit is too big, it's an old one of his fathers and he's so skinny, so young, he looks like a child playing dress up.

 

That's exactly what he feels like.

 

The seven of them are all in a small back room of the courthouse, awkward and frightened and hoping beyond all hope that this won't be the last time that they can come together and call themselves a group. Yukwon and Kyung stand in a corner, outfitted the same as him, hands together and heads bowed as they pray. Jihoon is on the phone as far away from the door as he can be, shoulders shaking, wrists wet with wiped tears. Minhyuk sits rigidly on the couch, his leg bouncing so rapidly and tersely that the dancer's muscle stands out garishly through the grey fabric of his slacks. Jaehyo is texting someone, probably one of his friends that has already debuted, asking if this is worth it.

 

Taeil doesn't want to know how they reply.

 

He wants Jiho, to be near him, take some of his strength. Their relationship is new, fragile, but he makes Taeil's head stop spinning on the easiest of days, why can't he now? Where is he?

 

Taeil's hands are in his pockets, he's pacing back and forth and the sound of his scuffed dress shoes squeaking on the distressed wood laminate floor is grating but no one tells him to stop so he doesn't.

 

He's about to go out, find an official, a baliff, his older sister he doesn't care, he needs someone to tell him how to deal with this, but then the door is opening and Jiho is walking through and Taeil immediately goes still.

 

Jiho's hair looks awful, his mother had tried to make it look more professional but the shaved sides make him look like a thug and the combover on top like a professor. His face is thin, so thin, Taeil sees himself in it because none of them can eat at a time like this, they're suing their company for christ's sake how can they eat with their stomachs in knots?

 

Taeil moves to Jiho like he's being tugged on a string, jerking and stilted. Jiho looks at him, eyes rimmed red, and tries a smile. 

 

"They'll be ready for us in a few minutes," he says, looking at Taeil but addressing the group. "They'll send a baliff when the judge arrives."

 

Taeil doesn't know what to do other than nod, so he does. 

 

Jiho is still looking at him like he's the only person in the room, and it makes Taeil nervous so he looks away, tries to hide his face because his mom had taken his glasses so he has no defense, no shield to hide behind, he feels as as the day he was born.

 

Jiho hates it when he does this but he seems to understand it at the moment because he doesn't take Taeils chin like he normally does, bring his face into the light, instead he just grabs Taeil's shoulders, and pulls him into a shivering hug.

 

Taeil feels a flood of something loosen the razor-taught flesh of his arms and his back and he reaches out, hugs him back. 

 

Jiho is so tall, like a stalk of wheat with his tiny waist and hips, Taeil spreads his short fingers across Jiho's broadening back and fights the impulse to scream out. Everything feels so unfair, so useless, they've just started out and they're already suffering like this? Jiho's breaths are as uneven and stuttering against Taeil's shoulder as the beats of Taeil's heart.

 

A knock on the door jolts all of them, Taeil and Jiho jump away from each other, Minhyuk is startled to standing. A head pokes itself through the door jam, fleshy face unemotional as the court employee announces himself as their .

 

A ripple of terror passes through the group as they stand, and cough, and line up like school children to get scolded. 

 

Taeil steps to stand immediately behind Jiho. Needing comfort, frightened and feeling hunted, Taeil leans his forehead against Jiho's back, takes a second to breathe him in. One of Jiho's spidery hands reaches back, blindly grasps for Taeil's and clutches his fingers tight.

 

Taeil is still scared, still unsure about their future, but Jiho is here with him, solid and just as terrified. His hand is cold and slick in Taeil's, a lifeline, a grounding wire.

 

With one final squeeze and a gesture from the baliff, Jiho walks out of the room, Taeil just behind him.