Dance practices get less awkward, if not all that much less divided. Not that it’s some bitter, angry thing, surprisingly. Hyukjae seems to have found his footing after about a week, and while he and Sungmin talk as little as possible, there’s just an easygoing certainty he has that Sungmin doesn’t share.

Henry plays along, because that’s what he does best. They trade jokes and barbs like nothing happened.

When there’s any levity to be found, that is. The whole group is like machines at this point. They’re all run ragged to the point that there’s precious little energy left for playing around, which is usually the band’s lifeblood. It’s all sort of off kilter in an unremarkable way. Ryeowook doesn’t attempt much in the way of lightening the mood, and even Donghae is messing up less often, and it’s harder to laugh when he does.

A couple weeks in, Ryeowook grabs Henry’s wrist as they’re heading down the hallway, tugging to hold him back while the rest of the group files in.

“Henry-ya, wait a second,” he says in the sweet, lilting voice that’s one of the few things reserved for him alone. Peeking around him, Ryeowook rocks onto his heels for a second, then beams a smile that holds secrets at him. Something smooth crinkles against Henry’s fingers.

“What is it?” Henry asks, tilting his head a bit to the right and raising his eyebrows, a toothy smile opening up his entire face almost like a reflex.

Ryeowook goes up onto his toes and steadies himself with a hand on Henry’s shoulder to mutter into his ear, “It’s candy I got for you to try. Eat it quickly before Donghae sees, hm?” With a squeeze to his hip, the other man walks past him.

It leaves Henry a little happier than he otherwise would’ve been after countless hours of practicing the new choreo. That precious moment, he hoards all week to keep it all from blurring together even further.

Each one stands out as a trail of stars would among the endless sky - the little cake with chocolate around and between the two layers, the strawberry creamy chewy thing, the simple cookie with an old-timey picture in relief made of chocolate on the opposite side that made him feel like a cool giant movie monster to eat, the pop-flavored candy that left his tongue tingling that he quietly whined to Ryeowook about, the custard cake, the hard plum one, the peach taffy that had him asking for another and finding his jacket pocket full of them when he got home, the one with the green tea-flavored filling, the grape gummy that he insisted Ryeowook had to try for himself too. (That almost got their routine busted by Siwon wanting to know what they were going on about and making Ryeowook mad with excessive skinship when he wouldn’t fess up.)

Still, all of that might be forgotten in the chasm of exhaustion if not for their ritual of hanging back behind the rest of the group for a moment, Ryeowook pushing the treat into his hand with a conspiratorial smile and his eyes sparkling with adoring mischief, lingering for long seconds, his thumb weaving a leisurely trail over the bottom of Henry’s palm as he pulled away.

He could hardly be bothered by the cheek pinching after getting that.

Without a second spent on second-guessing himself, Ryeowook slumping against the wall has Henry running to get him a water bottle from the cooler in the corner, and an extra towel to wipe off the sweat on his forehead before it can drip into his eyes. Henry feels a little too pleased when he gets a quiet thanks and a tired upturned corner of the mouth that's more beautiful than anything has a right to be, the weight of his feelings still a discernible shape in his chest, reminding him that they're not only not gone, but rekindling from the embers they'd burned down to, long since outgrowing a mere candle's flame.

But it happens again. And again. Multiple days, this happens. Kyuhyun notices, enough to give Henry a pointed look, paired with a particularly smug smirk.

“Hyung, are you eating enough?” Henry asks in a low voice, after the fourth or fifth time. , he’s starting to worry now. Ryeowook keeps his gaze pointed to the ground, the tops of his ears noticeably pink. “How many extra practices have you been doing?”

Clearly, Ryeowook’s about to wave him off. Before any answer can come, though, Kyuhyun loudly says, “You two are getting close lately, aren’t you.”

Pushing himself up off the wall, Ryeowook snorts and fires back, “Why, are you jealous?”

“Is there something to be jealous of?”

Henry whirls around. “Oh, Kyukyu, you know my heart only beats for you!” He presses his fingers together and bends both elbows, holding his hands close to his chest while he flutters his eyelashes obnoxiously.

“Gross,” Kyuhyun flatly states. “Don’t want it.”

So of course, Henry chases him, trying and failing to peck his cheek while Kyuhyun complains and repeatedly squirms out of his grasp. (He lets Mi get one in, though, no surprise. After using him as a shield, too!)

-

After a particularly grueling couple of days, the next time that the Sukira broadcast is going to be a pre-recorded one, Ryeowook seems to try and head trouble off at the pass by inviting Sungmin up to his floor. Henry overhears all this as he’s packing up his things, wondering how he can invite himself along. It’s not quite jealousy, but the feeling is something close enough that he doesn’t want to look at it too closely.

Sungmin sighs softly. “I kind of want to stay in with my guitar...” His eyes are seemingly locked onto the floor.

Ryeowook and Henry share a knowing look behind his back. On Ryeowook’s face, he can see fear, or worry, mixed up in something like pleading. So Henry rushes over to them, his bag thwapping into his leg, but he won’t let that slow him down.

“Hyung, I’m coming over too, so we’ll both play,” which he didn’t know he was going to say. “It’s more fun for me that way.” With a hmm and a drawing in on himself, Sungmin visibly hesitates. That’s better than a no, though. “Please, hyung?” Henry tries again, wiggling his shoulders a bit, then grabbing Sungmin’s hands and tugging repeatedly. Who needs dignity, anyway? “Come ooooon!”

A reluctant smile lights up Sungmin’s exquisite features, growing slowly but shining through. “Okay, fine.”

“We love that hyung is too nice,” Ryeowook says. They laugh at the exasperated noises Sungmin makes in return, hugging him from each side and playfully tugging him back and forth between them.

The three of them hang back to make sure they get their own elevator because they refuse to risk Donghae pushing all the buttons again. Quiet envelops them, the outside world falling away bit by bit. Henry starts drumming on one of the bars along the walls. Within seconds, Ryeowook’s tapping out a counterpoint loudly on his own leg.

A soft ding and slow lurch snaps them out of it. As one, they take Sungmin’s arm on either side of him, keeping him moving or holding him up or maybe none of it. Maybe it’s just to show him that they’ve got him if he needs it.

As soon as they get through the door, Henry gets in Sungmin’s way as they’re taking off their shoes, pulling him this way and that, holding his arms together by his sleeves. Which he easily breaks out of, but still.

Sungmin scolds him, tells him to cut it out, but Henry’s unrepentant and cheeky. What he likes the most is how the cloud that hangs over Sungmin disappears, even if it’s uncomfortable when he’s pinned to the floor. “I got it! I’ll stop!” He yelps, not sounding the least bit sorry. ‘Cause he’s not.

“Nope, I’m comfortable here now,” Sungmin says, letting his weight fall entirely onto Henry’s torso. All that muscle under the soft presses hard - no wonder no one messes with him!

The soft is so nice though, despite being squished.

All he can hear is that Ryeowook’s murmuring something to Sungmin before he’s let up from the floor. On impulse, he sneaks in under Sungmin’s shirt and rubs his tummy a little, which just gets him smacked away.

After that, Sungmin hauls him upright. The three of them start arguing about dinner. It’s kinda great.

Forgetting that he didn’t bring his acoustic with him is a pretty big flaw in Henry’s plan, but it works out okay. He and Sungmin pass it back and forth, though he mostly lets Sungmin keep it, except when he makes grabby hands and goes, “Oh, here, try this,” or, “Do you know this one?” Between messing around, they’ll start covers for the fun of it. When that happens, if Ryeowook knows the song, he’ll sing along from the counter or the stove. Henry has to pretend not to melt. There’s no amount of hearing his voice that makes it any less heart-wrenchingly beautiful.

Time flies by. The bowls that are set down on the table are noticeably more meat-heavy than the usual fare. At first, Henry thinks it’s for him, that Ryeowook’s about to about having a child’s taste, readying himself to defend that not everyone likes spicy food! But instead, Ryeowook implores Sungmin to eat up.

“You look tired all the time. I worry about you,” Ryeowook says, placing his hand on top of Sungmin’s. For a moment, Henry feels like he can’t breathe.

Sinking down a little into his chair, Sungmin gives Ryeowook this sad almost-smile that wobbles too much to be called that, his eyes full of gratitude. “Okay, I will this time. Thanks.”

“This time,” Ryeowook scoffs, interlacing his fingers with Sungmin’s. “Don’t lie.”

“Hyung needs to eat up and regain his strength,” Henry interjects. He’s trying to help. “It’s only fair so I can beat you at arm wrestling.”

Sungmin tilts his chin at him in that bring it on way. “Not a chance, brat.”

“We both finish this, then we’ll see,” Henry asserts, his answering smirk showing how ready he is to take on the challenge.

Under the table, something taps his shin. When he looks over, Ryeowook mouths thanks at him. There’s nothing harder in the world than not kissing him right that second, so Henry stuffs his mouth so full that he can’t think about it.

Also, he ignores the look Ryeowook gives him when he piles on the salt right after that. He’s gonna try his damnedest to win this time! No mercy, not even for Sungmin!

-

Rituals get them through everything else they have to do. Or need to, like, say, drawing Sungmin out of his sad shell, because the farther in he withdraws, the harder it’ll be for him to come back out. No one wants to let it get that bad.

, he deserves so much better than for everyone to watch but never grab his hand to stop him from falling so very far.

Gradually, by trial and error, Ryeowook learns to adjust his seasoning for the extra protein and iron he’s putting into the post-gym dinners. At first, only Henry’s going with him, since he started going on a different schedule than Donghae. Then Henry invites Sungmin too, cajoles him into going despite his listlessness and complaints by half-jokingly insisting that they both need to get in better shape to show off their y bods soon.

(That really shouldn’t have worked.)

But yeah, so Ryeowook keeps experimenting with different recipes for what’s become a weekly ritual for the three of them, but he’ll hardly ever eat some himself. Henry literally has to maneuver until he’s holding up a bite’s worth to his mouth, poking and prodding while Ryeowook laughs and says, “Noooo, I don’t want to!”

He goes cross-eyed for a sec looking at it, pouting until Henry insists one more time, “Come on, have some.” Then he does this thing where he leans forward to finally take a bite of his own damn food, keeping eye contact the whole time, searching for something unknown. Still, though he never seems to find it, Henry can’t help but smile seeing him eating. Every time, Ryeowook tells him from behind his hand while chewing, “You’re the worst,” his eyes curved up in mirth and subdued joy.

Inevitably, Sungmin says along the lines of, “Are the two of you ever going to stop?” Which is obviously a ploy for attention, so they give it to him in unrelenting, teasing spades until he vocally regrets saying anything.

Once in a while, actual life advice and serious conversations occur, unbelievable as that may be. That’s what Ryeowook says happens when he and Sungmin hole up in his room with the door locked, too.

Together, the three of them make it enough, when it can’t ever really be. A hole in your heart doesn’t fill up just like that.