it was cold. jihoon hated being like this, hated how he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. he felt so childish. idols were supposed to be kind and composed, but here he was; sitting in some god forsaken playground at four in the ing morning and putting his health at risk. and for what? some petty fight with seungcheol? he was being stupid

“i told you to go outside and take a break,” seungcheol had said and there was a twinkle of concern in his eyes and jihoon hated it.

“and i considered it and decided no, i do not need a break,” jihoon had replied and made it as venomous as he could. seungcheol was babying him, treating him like a petulant child, but jihoon didn’t want it. jihoon was trying, he had already taken a break today and he’d slept an hour more than usual and he’d let the vocal unit play around with him, but seungcheol just didn’t see.

“are you even motivated?” seungcheol had asked and jihoon knew what he meant. not are you motivated to make music. not are you motivated to be an idol. no, seungcheol meant are you motivated to be healthy, because getting two hours of sleep every night and stressing himself to the point where his skin refused to clear up and fingers kept getting skinnier (the rest of him too, but it was his fingers he saw running across the keyboard at o’clock in the morning every day) and believing that any failure was on his hands, his fault, was not at all healthy. after an intervention and a doctor’s visit, it had been confirmed that this was messing with his mind and seungcheol was the self-appointed enforcer of the tips from the doctor.

jihoon could feel the back of his eyeballs burn. tears. nope. he was not going to cry, not now, not ever. he was sitting on a swingset in a playground in the middle of the night with tears in his eyes from frustration and it was too ing picturesque, too fake; he couldn’t cry. this wasn’t some ty hollywood movie where the protagonist is seen crying desperately by themselves and the main love interest or whatever whisk them away with sweet words. he was throwing a fit because seungcheol couldn’t see that he was ing trying, but he didn’t see himself as valuable beyond his works. his value was measured in hit songs, in compositions and the proud smiles of s when they hit the tones he’d produced for them just right, so why would he want to focus on anything else.

“hey, jihoon-ah?”

jihoon wondered if he could just topple off the swings and hit his head on the ground and pretend it was an accident. at least he knew he wouldn’t be whisked away by perfectly thought-out words.

“yes, jisoo-hyung?”

joshua was looking at him with a concerned frown and jihoon didn’t really like it. it didn’t fit him.

“are you alright?”

of course joshua knew something was up; the 95-liners were incredibly close and if anything happened, seungcheol would definitely go to them first. why he sent joshua instead of jeonghan was a mystery to jihoon though; jeonghan was lazier, but had a way with words. joshua cared, but advice wasn’t his strong suit.

“if i was, would i be here?”

joshua sat on the swing next to jihoon and jihoon wanted to kick him off and tell him to go himself, but he had already snapped at one person and he wasn’t a fan of the guilt that came with venting his anger to people he loved.

“want to talk?”

joshua had that look on his face, that open, honest, genuine, loving look and jihoon felt his chest tighten.

“i’m trying, hyung. i just want to be alone.”

jihoon looked at him and he could see joshua struggling. joshua wanted to say the right thing, he always did, but he never managed to string the words together the way he wanted. jihoon reached over and took joshua’s hand and he saw the boy flinch away for a second. joshua wasn’t used to friendly contact between boys like jihoon was. joshua just gave him a little smile though, and interlaced their fingers and jihoon wondered if it was platonic for joshua.

“let’s be alone, then.”