“Hey, let’s catch up after!” Yejin had said when they were all dismissed, and Jihoon had assumed it was an empty promise.

And yet, here he was, sitting outside the agency building, at midnight, coffee from the convenience store between them, as Yejin rambled on about some new restaurant that opened up nearby. Seungcheol had wanted to join, but he had eleven other boys to look after and put to bed, while Jihoon was meant to be in the studio. He had planned to use that as an excuse to stay cooped up, but Yejin had called him seven times, and Seungcheol three, whining, before he finally surrendered and made his way outside.

Now, he’s just sipping the coffee and going over the track he was working on before in his head.

Yejin looks at the blond boy beside her. “You know I meant more than just your dance skills when I said you had changed the most, right?”

Jihoon doesn’t look at her, and it takes him too long to answer. “You know your weight is fine, right?”

Yejin chuckles and puts a hand on his shoulder. “I feel like you’re a different person, Jihoon,” her voice sounds distant, and he knows she’s trying to be careful of her words.

“A lot of things have happened since we trained together,” Jihoon answers quietly. He offers her a tiny, weak smile. She sees straight through it, just like he expects her to.

“What happened to the Jihoon I knew?” she asks, “You’re still the same, I know that, but you don’t show it anymore.”

“Like I said, a lot has happened since we trained together,” Jihoon says. Even to his own ears, he sounds cold.

“Since we trained together, yes,” Yejin says, “But it’s only recently that things have changed, isn’t it?” She smiles. “Seungcheol talks to me sometimes.”

Jihoon doesn’t answer and she continues. “I heard about you composing and producing almost everything.”

Her hand on his shoulder moves to wrap around him, pulling him closer to her. He remains stiff. “It’s been hard on you, Jihoonie,” she says, voice soft. He doesn’t miss the sadness laced in it, and he knows it’s because he won’t relax in her touch. He used to be so comfortable with her, sharing meals and laughing together. Back then, he wouldn’t hesitate to say anything, , let her wrap her arms around him like she was his real sister.

Now he feels like he doesn’t know how to.

Yejin sighs and slowly lets him go. And for a split second, he feels panic, like she’s leaving, giving up on him too - he knows pretty much everyone else has; they just don’t have a choice but to put up with it.

“There’s a lot of time alone,” he blurts out and Yejin looks as surprised as he is about his sudden outburst.

She recovers first though, and her gaze is gentle as she touches his cheek. “It’s been hard on you, Jihoonie,” she says again, and this time it works. He feels his facade crumble as thinks about all those nights alone in the studio, frustration and loneliness eating at him from the isolation. The mounting pressure of the thoughts in his head that feel like they’re consuming him, and yet all he can do is put on a mask and pretend he’s fine, cracking only when he gets too tired to fight it, snapping at whoever happened to prod him at the wrong time.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he mumbles, and he feels the threat of tears welling up. Normally this would be terrifying, but Yejin is rubbing comforting circles on his back and listening, and he doesn’t feel a