Requested by: NikaChan_

Pairing: Jeongcheol (Jeonghan x Seungcheol)

Author: Pollux (from TheTwins)

Started: 02/23/17

Finished: 02/24/17

Request:

Pairing: Jeongcheol

Genre: Hurt Comfort, Fluff

Plot: Jeonghan is insecure about his role in the group; Seungcheol comforts him.

Stay

It was quiet, Jeonghan realized, curled up in an effort to keep his feet under the thin blanket. He wasn’t sure how long he had been lying there, entertaining the faint hope that sleep would overtake him as it had the rest of the members. If he wasn’t mistaken, the dark lump on the floor was either Jun or Hoshi, having snuck in later than the others—presumably from extra dance practice. After all, they were part of the Performance Unit so “of course” they practiced more. That’s what each one of them said when Jeonghan knitted his eyebrows and frowned in worry. Even their youngest.

“Finish early,” he’d call out, only to get knowing chuckles in response. They never did.

Shivering, he tried to gather the blanket around him but only ended up sacrificing what little warmth had covered his feet in the first place. With a long sigh, he sat up in the darkness, tired eyes making out the faint rectangle of light around the door. If he was going to turn into an insomniac, he might as well embrace it and make himself that stereotypical cup of coffee that every hot insomniac with some angsty backstory had.

However, he stopped as the dim light from the door illuminated the sleeping faces of S. Coups, Mingyu, and Woozi in their respective spots. The dark lump had been Jun after all, probably having wandered into the wrong room. Sprawled out on the cold hardwood floor in nothing but a tank and loose shorts, the other “mother” of the group had unconsciously rolled over, leaving his stomach on full display. “Idiots,” Jeonghan muttered as he stepped over Jun to grab his blanket, “all of them.” He left after sliding a pillow under Jun’s head, making futile attempts to pull down the man’s tank, and covering the remainder with his blanket. Out of habit, he also picked up the clothes strewn around the room and threw them into some random corner that he made a mental note to return to on laundry day.

It was so quiet, sitting in the darkness on one of the living room couches. Too quiet compared to the yelling and screaming that the sunlight brought, the youthful energy of the members—seemingly recharged from a few hours of sleep—that made Jeonghan feel young again. Young, because as the managers said, “Young is 18 or younger.” At 21, he supposed that meant he really was the “eldest maknae,” an older brother trying to fit in with the younger ones. In the quiet, he remembered his original plan to make coffee but getting back up was so hard—the ground was so cold and the doors and tables seemed to grow darker and more menacing by the second. In this quiet, no one would know if he walked outside, just to wander aimlessly in the streets of Seoul as a young man, barely an adult, trying to find his place under the stars—not Jeonghan, member of Seventeen. If he walked far enough, perhaps he could be a painter or a writer or anything else. If he walked far enough, maybe he’d feel better.

Of course, he knew better than to leave, knew that the security would catch him, knew that the managers would scold him. “You’ll ruin your image,” they’d say. “Be grateful for your fans.” But the coos of “What beautiful hair” and “Such a pretty face” didn’t soothe the inexplicable aching in his chest. Even those nice comments made him frown, but then he’d feel a pang of guilt for not accepting his fans’ compliments. After all, they were better than the words that appeared on the phone screen in front of him. Jeonghan didn’t know when he’d taken it out but he couldn’t help but scroll.

“Ugly.”

“Like a girl.”

“So fake.”

“Useless.”

Like every other time, he sat there, staring at the phone in his hand until the harsh light of the screen pricked at his eyes and his vision blurred. He didn’t even realize he was crying until a soft voice called out from the side.

“Hannie?”

Seungcheol.

Suddenly, everything was too bright, and his eyes squeezed shut on reflex as he yelped, shielding his face.

“Are you okay?”

Desperately, Jeonghan nodded behind his hands, not trusting his voice to not tremble. Of all the people, he never wanted Seungcheol to see this side of him—weak, too weak to trust himself.

“Hannie?” The voice was softer now, no longer a question as warm hands enveloped him and Jeonghan let his own fall to his side limply. “S-sorry,” he sniffed, blinking hard enough to dry his eyes. “I’m fine.”

The brown eyes in front of him told him that that was a lie.

He wondered if S. Coups had also wanted a coffee at 1:43 in the dead of the night, in a city where the lights danced on and so did many of the people. Belatedly, he realized that Seungcheol probably neither heard nor thought of any of those things but had rather heard the crying through the door Jeonghan had foolishly left open. But it was too late to stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth.

“Coffee?” The other man chuckled, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards, “Not at this hour.” He paused, and the seriousness returned with the touch of a rough thumb smoothing over Jeonghan’s cheek. “Do you want some?”

Before he knew it, Jeonghan was nodding mutely—after all, that was what he came out for, wasn’t it?

But when the lingering warmth left, he felt angry tears threaten to drown him again and the harsh light coming from the lamp kept his temple throbbing like there was some dam there, ready to burst—with tears or with thoughts, he wasn’t sure. And since Seungcheol wasn’t back yet, Jeonghan lugged himself up and rubbed at his eyes hard enough to see spots. If he wasn’t going to sleep, he might as well get ready to look less like when the others woke up hours later—so he headed to the bathroom. “Coups, I’m gonna shower.”

He tried not to listen for a response, back sliding down the door as it closed behind him.

Just a little bit. After this, he would wipe the tears away.

After this, he’d be strong.

“Five minutes,” Jeonghan whispered into the air.

True to his word, when he had counted to 300, Jeonghan forced himself up, his grip deathlike on the sink counter. His eyes were red and puffy with red splotches blossoming around them, next to a few small scratches on his cheekbones. His hair was even worse, a few strands sticking up and some others bent weirdly as they ran down a few inches of his shoulders. Like a girl. Useless. As he set out to find the nail clippers and hair brush, there was a light knock on the door.

“Coffee’s done,” the voice sounded muffled. “Can I come in?”

With one deep breath to futilely soothe the painful thumping in his chest, Jeonghan turned the door knob. Again, he was face to face with Seungcheol, who held a cup in one hand and blankets in the other. “Wanna watch a movie with me?” While he didn’t want to watch anything, Jeonghan couldn’t help but wonder how he was so lucky to have Seungcheol—but no, he reminded himself, he did deserve this. Like Joshua and DK told him before, he had to believe that he was worth it.

“Sorry Coups, can we talk here?”

And it was almost easy, the way that Seungcheol smiled and handed over the coffee as he sat down, too, back against the counter. “Sure. What’s wrong?”

Taking in sweet sips of the coffee—with cream and one cube of sugar, just the way Jeonghan liked it—he sat down next to the other and laid his head on Seungcheol’s shoulder, closing his eyes.

“I feel like I’m useless.”

“How so?”

It was comforting, talking to him like this.

Eyes still closed, Jeonghan could almost imagine that time had stopped around them with a blanket now draped on his shoulders.

“I’m supposed to be the mom but I can’t help anyone. The kids all leave for school, sometimes with mismatching socks and no tie. And then they come back and practice past midnight. And I can’t do anything.” He didn’t want to open his eyes for fear that Seungcheol’s eyes would somehow lull him back to a silent camaraderie. “They all say I’m pretty but what’s the point? I’m a man too. All my hair is good for is to cement this image of some soft, kind, pretty boy—which I can’t even be.” His voice cracked but he went on, almost pleading. “I’m nothing to the team like this—”

Gentle fingers ran through his hair as a hand settled on the side of his head.

“I’m not going to say it’s going to be okay, but I can say that you’ll be okay. You’re much more than some mold of an idol—”

“Thanks Coups,” Jeonghan smiled bitterly. “But my whole face practically says otherwise. I was chosen for this. They made me grow my hair out for this!” He wasn’t sure where he was even going with it, but somehow, Jeonghan had ended up standing with a fist in Seungcheol’s pajama top. Echos of his raised voice faded. “This…”

Strong hands were grabbing his wrist before his hands could close on fistfuls of his hair.

“Hannie,” Seungcheol wrapped him in a bear hug. “Then let me help.”

“How?” He choked out.

“Close your eyes for me.”

Facing the mirror, Jeonghan gripped the sink counter nervously.

To his right, there was the noise of fumbling and dull sound of the cabinet sliding.

Soon, a warm breath brushed his ear and two hands rubbed calming circles into his back.

“Trust me.”

Something heavy covered his shoulders—the blanket—and his hair was lifted up.

Jeonghan wondered if Seungcheol was going to brush it like Joshua had but quickly, any thoughts he had were replaced by the sound of snipping that filled the small room. His breath caught.

“The managers are going to be mad,” he warned but there was no real bite. A tired smile felt alien on his lips.

The sound of chuckling behind him was soothing, and as the weight from his hair got lighter, he felt like singing.

“I will confess what has been on the tip of my tongue tomorrow,” he hummed.

Seungcheol sang the next line. “You are pretty.”

Opening his eyes at a tap on his shoulder, Jeonghan raised an eyebrow at Seungcheol’s reflection behind him in the mirror. “Not bad.”

Strong arms wrapped around his middle and a chin rested on Jeonghan’s right shoulder. “It’s easy when you’re this beautiful.”

He still couldn’t laugh, but the smile came a little more easily.

“Thanks.”

They stayed like that for what felt like at least ten, fifteen minutes, Seungcheol hugging Jeonghan as they swayed to his humming. Jeonghan was the one to break the hug, reaching to grab his coffee when Seungcheol refused to let go and he was reminded again of how much the elder was like a puppy.

Then, they stumbled into the still lit living room, Seungcheol’s arm firmly wrapped around Jeonghan’s waist and Jeonghan’s arm slung around Seungcheol’s shoulders.

And well, the rest would be left up to imagination but when the members questioned him about what happened that night, Jeonghan would only admit that Seungcheol was very warm. And yes, their eyes did not betray them that morning when Jun took one look at the two sleeping on the couch together—arms around each other and Jeonghan’s head on Seungcheol’s chest—and woke up all the others.

“Married couple,” they were called and Jeonghan didn’t mind at all.

Hello lovely readers,

Did you noticed the little easter eggs? Hint: Pretty You song lyrics/1-4-3 :)

Hope you enjoyed and we'd love if you left feedback or requests bellow!

~Pollux