i.

Silence can sometimes be a problem.

All of them have complained at one moment or another of the chaos it was to have six guys living together, never mind seven or thirteen, the constant buzz of conversation and music, heavy footsteps, rusty hinges, banging doors, clicking cluttery, screams to hurry up in the bathroom, to wakeupalreadygoddamnit, to shuttheup and lower the tv, no, turn it up ‘cause that’s interesting... When it diminishes and then almost vanishes because now there are only three of them in the dorm, rarely the three present at the same time, the quiet is often disquieting. 

There are times when Chansung misses all that disturbance to the point where he doesn’t feel at home in what has been home for him long before their debut, not the place itself for it has changed but what it represents. He doesn’t know what to make of the thought but he may admit to himself that his family house feels even less like home in comparison.

He shifts around and under the covers, gets up to drink some water, hurries back to bed, changes position any number of times... The bags under his eyes are only getting bigger, but he rubs at them and gives up the entire room in favor of the couch, dragging a heavy mackinaw blanket with him as he lies down in front of the television, which he doesn’t feel like turning on. The only sound is that of his own breathing and the occasional rustle of his cotton-clad legs under the blanket. He bends one knee for a minute, stretches it again for two, turns up to the side for three, buries his head on the armrest for a second before deciding to pull a cushion from behind his back to rest his head on it instead--

“Getting restless won’t help.”

Chansung gets so scared he almost falls off the couch, and for once Junho doesn’t laugh as he fumbles with the plaid cover while looking for him in the near darkness. He has to wait some five seconds before speaking, his heart races just so. “When did you arrive?”

“Way before you decided it’d be a good idea to sleep here.” Junho’s voice is getting closer, and then Chansung hears him sitting on the armchair to his left, fingers tapping on what must be a mug. “Want some hot chocolate?”

“How come I didn’t hear you get in?”

Junho’s breathing reveals a soft chuckle. “Chansung ah, don’t get so worked up. It really won’t help you sleep.”

He frowns, almost throwing the words back at him, but catches himself just in time. That’s the kind of reaction he would get out of Junho for saying something along those lines. Chansung usually handles his own frustration in silence, but the lack of sleep may have gotten his brain a little fuzzy, it wouldn’t be a first. He sighs and goes to the kitchen, turning the light on to find a mug already waiting for him. “Did you make all this in the dark?”

Junho’s laughter reaches him and makes his skin prickle pleasantly, as glad as he is for the unexpected cocoa. “No, you silly.” Junho pauses to take a sip; he doesn’t make a sound but now Chansung can see him lifting the mug to his lips. “I was about to go to your room and offer you some.”

Chansung sends a grateful smile his way as he sits back on the couch, pulling the blanket to his lap. He notices how Junho’s eyes follow his hands, how he’s all curled up there on his own, and lifts the blanket, nodding at him. Junho shakes his head as if Chansung were all the more silly for thinking that’s what he wanted, but he does come to his side and helps Chansung fix the blanket over both of their laps. 

They drink in silent companionship and thus Chansung relaxes, all warm and cozy now. Junho finishes first and puts the mug on the floor, to the side of the couch to avoid accidents, so Chansung hands him his own once he’s done as well.

“You must be tired,” he says, because Junho’s just come back from the studio, or so Chansung assumes - Junho often worked till early in the morning or however long it would take to rehearse for a solo performance, even more if the song was in Japanese. He smells just faintly of sweat, though, so he either took a shower before coming home or didn’t practice the choreography today.

“Aren’t we always tired?” Junho retorts, a small smile that Chansung shares with him. They’re not complaining. “But, I also feel like you. Can’t wait till the tour starts. Keep thinking of more things for us to do.”

“Like what?”

Junho hums in thought. His fingers play with the blanket, picking at the small pills or drawing invisible patterns. “The skits. Our talks. How to make them laugh - our fans. How to keep the usual performances interesting enough - no, more than that. Exciting. We gotta make them cheer and scream all the time.”

Chansung’s lips tug up as he watches Junho’s eyes glow in contemplation. He recognizes the eagerness and anxiety he also feels; maybe that’s indeed one reason he can’t sleep. “I’m sure they’ll be happy just by seeing us on stage.”

“I don’t wanna take that for granted.”

“It’s not - we never do. It’s not what I mean.”

Junho stops to look at him, and then he nods. “Yeah, I know.”

Chansung smiles at him, but it twists into a long yawn that makes Junho grimace.

“Whoa there, lion. Your breath smells like .”

“Then your cocoa must taste like .”

Junho punches at his shoulder, and Chansung doesn’t fight him, nor does he try to retaliate. “Thanks for making me sleepy.”

It works as if he had actually hit Junho though, for he gapes in mock offense. “You’re awful.”

“And you’re lovely.”

Junho punches him again.



Chansung wakes up to the sound of his alarm blasting all the way from the nightstand. He’s not fully conscious though so when he rolls to the side to turn it off, there isn’t another half meter of mattress to bear his weight and he falls on the floor, which to his surprise features a rug and not just hard wood. So he did fall asleep on the couch, then.

His immediate thought is that maybe Junho hadn’t been there at all last night - earlier in the morning, really - but that is disproved by the two mugs which he almost kicks and then takes to the kitchen sink. Junho would need to choose better places to avert disasters. 

The alarm stops ringing but he knows it will start again soon unless he turns it off, so he rushes to do that lest Junho gets up to yell at him. He stares at the clock on the screen until his hazy brain registers that the alarm had rung a few times until he actually heard it. He’s lost nearly half an hour, he will have to skip breakfast and - damn it. He’s done that enough to be used to it, but today he’s supposed to practice taekwondo for the first time in - too long, and he has no idea when they will have a meal, if at all. 

He takes a quick shower, puts on his favorite jeans and a white shirt under a vest, adds a beanie so the makeup team will be the ones to worry about his hair, and grabs a black, thick overcoat as he leaves the dorm just in time for his manager to pull over and open the door for him. Chansung fastens the seatbelt as they’re going, anticipation helping him wake up as they review today’s schedule. His stomach rumbles and his manager tells him they might manage to grab something to eat or he will make him some arrangement later. Chansung can almost hear Nichkhun’s voice reprimanding him for not taking proper care of his health - sleep and food wise. He smiles fondly at that and then wishes Nichkhun would be there, just like when they played badminton together, and Wooyoung too. He’s grown to like the Cool Kiz team as well, and he already misses Max and Feeldog. He sighs, and lets his mind wander with kick and block techniques, patterns, breathing exercises, power breaking...



ii.

Chansung makes a point of keeping the kitchen organized. Each utensil and food item has its own place and it should remain like that. Looking for things when their schedule already limits time mercilessly is one of his pet peeves. Nichkhun once told him Wooyoung made sure to pass that on to their maknae before moving out, since Junho had always been a lost cause when it came to organization, and Nichkhun himself didn’t need the lecture, he was already a neat freak anyway. Furthermore, no one spent as much time in the kitchen as Chansung did. 

One evening finds him preparing some spicy stew, the water boiling with chicken gizzard as he peels and chops the pre-washed vegetables carefully. Each ingredient has its own cooking time, his mind echoes in Wooyoung’s soft voice, so you either follow and order of adding them to the stew or you cut them in different sizes. Ignoring that might result in melted potatoes but raw carrots, just as choosing the wrong time for seasoning will spoil the taste. 

Most of it is just feeling, something Chansung has discovered through repeated trial and error, but once he finds it he also finds himself enjoying the process. Albeit he’s concentrated, cooking helps him unwind, and this stew in particular makes him feel at home and at ease. It was Wooyoung’s recipe for freezing winter nights and reckless members who thought it was a good idea to go running in that weather. He also feels the warmth of memories soothing him, and he smiles almost unconsciously. 

He lowers the heat as he adds some of the vegetables to the meat, stirring and tasting the broth before covering the pan again, but leaving a small space for it to breathe. He’s setting the table when the front door unlocks to let in a gasping Junho and a laughing Nichkhun, who pats the other’s back as they get rid of their shoes and snowflake-covered jackets, gloves and scarves.

“Why... do I even...” Junho bends over and puts hands on knees, taking in a huge gulp of air to manage another few words. “Khun ah is... crazy...” 

Nichkhun looks at him with his ever sunny smile, winks at Chansung and then comes to his side in front of the table. “Junho ah, look at what our dear maknae’s making for us...”

Junho breathes in and out, in and out, drags himself to the table and slumps on a chair as if he had run a marathon instead of the few dozen blocks Chansung expects they’ve covered.

“Next time... you go...” Junho points a finger at Chansung, as if he were to blame for his current wheezing. 

Chansung shakes his head. “I told you not to go. You’re not used to it like Khun hyung, and I think you’re getting sick.”

Junho sneezes just as he’s about to counterargue. He looks miffed because his body just betrayed him. 

“Hey, keep those germs away from us,” says Nichkhun, though he ruffles Junho’s hair and squeezes his shoulders. “Besides, if Chansung joins me, who’s gonna cook? You?”

Junho slaps his hands away for the taunt and glares at Chansung for laughing. “It’s not like I can’t. But we can always get some takeout or deli.”

“Or we could go to Woodong’s house,” Chansung says, and Nichkhun all but makes the awww-face at him.

“You miss our Woodongie?”

Junho saves him the trouble of answering by huffing loudly. “More like he misses Young’s food.”

Chansung shows him his tongue before turning to the oven; it’s time to add the remaining ingredients. After washing his hands, Nichkhun finishes setting the table for him, while Junho goes to the bathroom to freshen up. 

“Where’s the ladle?” Nichkhun asks, opening and closing drawers before crouching down to look through the pans in the lower cupboard.

“It should be in the second drawer over there,” Chansung says, indicating the one where they kept chopsticks, bigger knives, spatulas and so on. Nichkhun shakes his head and tells him it’s not there, so Chansung frowns while stirring the stew. “When was the last time we used it?”

Nichkhun stands up and thinks of it. “Last week? But we always put it there...”

“It was Junho’s turn to dry the dishes,” Chansung mumbles, sighing as he doesn’t recall the other asking them where to put anything away, the result unsurprising.

“Do you remember where you put the ladle?” Nichkhun asks Junho upon his return. 

Junho pouts like he does when he’s caught red-handed; one look at Chansung and it’s his ears turning red. “I... might have broken it...”

“You what?” Nichkhun asks, not accusingly but rather dumbfounded, though he nearly laughs. Chansung stops for a second, takes a deep breath and counts silently as he continues moving the chopsticks around the pan, never changing the pace. 

“I... put it in that drawer but it wouldn’t close and I - uh, I kinda forced it, and, y’know...” he shrugs, but he still looks embarrassed. Not apologetic enough, Chansung thinks, but that would be asking too much.

“Did you buy a new one?” When Junho doesn’t answer, Chansung’s eyebrows draw further together, until his eyes complain and he reminds himself he shouldn’t get angry. He sighs. “Remember how we said that--”

“Whenever we broke something we’d replace it, yeah, Wooyoung drilled that into our brains already, and I was going to buy it, but there was no time. To go to the supermarket in hiding, I mean. And I didn’t want to ask anyone to buy it for me, so I ordered one.”

“Online?” Nichkhun sounds amused again. “If it’s like those clothes you buy, it’ll probably be the wrong one.”

“If that happens,” Junho looks pointedly at Chansung, “I’ll know what to do with it.”



iii.

Chansung checks that he’s got everything: helmet, knee and elbow pads, ipod, water, a change of clothes and the camera in his small backpack. Nichkhun has just gotten up and pauses at the bathroom door to smile sleepily at him.

“Biking?”

Chansung nods. “I’ve already had breakfast and left some coffee for you, hyung.”

“Well, good morning to you, then.”



It is a good morning. Barely a cloud in the sky, the sun shining since the early hours but not making the air too hot or stuffy. He enjoys the fresh air that whips at his face as he rides along the streets, building up the pace as his body warms up until he’s speeding through the city. He goes to Seoul Forest, the public park, and changes from cycling to walking as he takes the camera out to practice what Nichkhun and Junho have been teaching him. He’s not exactly a photography enthusiast but he likes to pause and appreciate the beautiful things to which he’s sometimes blind because of work. He hardly has enough time to walk the whole park, a whole week wouldn’t be enough, so whenever he goes there he tries to choose different routes and spots. Today he walks around the Wetlands Ecological Field, going to the bird observatory and the flower garden. 

He’s checking the pictures he’s taken of the Mandarin ducks, the fluffy grey newborns and the colorful-feathered adults, when his phone rings. He lets the camera hanging around his neck as he takes the call, already smiling.

“Hi, Woodong.”

“Yah, Chansungie! You forgot I was coming over today?”

Chansung’s brow wrinkles slowly as he tries to recall what this is about. “You’re at the dorm?”

Wooyoung chuckles even as he tries to muster up his anger again. “No, stupid. I’m at your gym. Rings a bell?”

“Oh. Oh. I’m sorry, Woodongie, I forgot...”

“That much is obvious. So, can you come over? Otherwise I’ll work out by myself.”

“I’m kinda... far right now. I’m at Seoul Forest.”

Wooyoung is silent for a second. “That one you’ve been telling us about? I’d like to go with you sometime.”

“Why don’t you come today? After you finish exercising? We could have lunch together.”

“Do you have to talk about food when I’m about to bore myself to death on the treadmill?”

Chansung laughs. “If that’s the only thing you’re doing, you could come here and then we’ll go walking or running together.”

“That’s not...” Wooyoung pauses. Chansung feels bad for a second because he was supposed to show him his own routine for building pecs, but they could also work on that here, just without the machines. “I guess that’s fine. How did you get there, anyway?”

“Biking. But you can drive or just take the train here, whatever suits you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I swear, if I arrive there and you’re not waiting for me...”

“Come on, Woodongie, I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. See you in about an hour.”

When he hangs up, Chansung is smiling even more than when he picked up the phone. 



iv.

He presses the switch but the light doesn’t turn on. He tries it again, and again, until he realizes it won’t work. An undignified sound comes through his lips and he shakes his head, leaning against the cold tiles of the bathroom while trying to stay awake. 

“Go back to bed,” Nichkhun tells him when passing by, his bright voice almost offensive at this ungodly hour. 

Chansung doesn’t really know what time it is but he’s sure his alarm won’t ring for a long time. No sooner had his air conditioning turned off then he woke up in a tangle of sheets, limbs and sweat, and now he needs to take a shower, but how’s one supposed to do that in the dark?

“The lamp’s burnt out,” he tells no one in particular, since Nichkhun is already back in his room, and he’s alone and now he’s got to change the lamp if he is to take a shower. He doesn’t trust his sleepy state to save him from bumping into things, possibly falling and hurting himself. That applies to climbing ladders and dealing with electricity, so he follows Nichkhun’s advice and drags his feet back to bed, but not before turning the air conditioning back on.



“Why didn’t you change the lamp last night?”

He peeks at the door and sees Junho there, one hand on the doorknob and the other on his hipbone. Chansung grumbles something at his pillow and tries to prepare himself for a confrontation, but what he gets instead is something soft being used as a weapon against his .

“Junho ah!”

“Nope.”

That works at waking him up better than the hitting, he turns around to see Taecyeon grinning much like the cat he always draws. “Taecyeon hyung!”

“Yeah, I know you love me.”

Chansung laughs. He catches Junho rolling his eyes before he disappears off somewhere but his attention is drawn to the stuffed green animal in Taecyeon’s tiny hands. “Is that the final version of Okcat?”

“Probably.” Taecyeon lets him take it and Chansung cackles at the cat’s face, both because of its giant size compared to the body and the smile that seems to be making fun of whoever looks at it. And there’s also the dimples that don’t do justice to the ones on Taecyeon’s face, but otherwise make the plush doll look even more like its creator. 

“Can I keep it?”

“I brought it for you, duh. I’m not releasing it yet so don’t you dare post any pictures on Twitter, okay?”

“Ok-cat.”

Taecyeon swats at his head. “And you guys complain about my jokes.”

Chansung’s shoulders shake a little as he laughs again. “Thanks, Taec.”

“You’ll have to thank me for changing the lamp, too.”

Chansung meant to cover his face with his hands but ends up with Okcat there instead. It only makes him laugh more. “Don’t tell me Junho called you?”

“Yup. It was not even ten in the morning so you guys better make up for that.”

“I was gonna fix it...” Chansung puts the stuffed cat down and fights back a pout.

“Too late.” Taecyeon shrugs, but he’s grinning again. “You should really take that shower now...”

Chansung hits him with Okcat. 

“Hey! That was a gift!”

Chansung changes Okcat for a pillow and cackles madly when Taecyeon nearly falls off the bed; he hit him too hard on the neck. He tries to apologize but Taecyeon jumps on him and presses his head against the mattress, making him laugh until he’s breathless and apologizing through gasps. 

“Stop killing each other and let’s have breakfast,” Nichkhun calls from the door, so Taecyeon finally lets go of him. “We have to go to the studio later.”

“Be there in a second, grandpa.”

Nichkhun doesn’t waste time on Taecyeon’s joke and disappears the same way Junho went earlier, probably the kitchen. Taecyeon gets up and Chansung follows, but the former turns around just as they’re out the door.

“Not so fast, stinky boy.” He points a finger at him and raises his eyebrows in what is supposed to be a severe expression, but Chansung has to bite back a laugh. “Shower.”

“But hyung... I’m hungry...”

“Don’t you hyung me, I’m not Jun.k to fall for that.” Chansung can’t refrain a soft chuckle and Taecyeon ends up smiling even though he tries to hide it too. “You choose, deal with me or Junho.”

Chansung fakes a shudder. “Okay, okay, I’ll go.”

“Now that’s a good maknae.”

Chansung rolls his eye at him, so Taecyeon slaps his as soon as he turns around.



v.

Thirty-seven channels have been flipped in less than a minute when a pillow comes flying to Chansung’s head, hitting precisely at his left eye and ear. He holds the cushion ready for attack as he looks at Junho, the only other occupant in the room, but he’s already concentrated on the screen of his cell phone again. Judging from the sounds and the way he’s biting into his lower lip, he’s still playing a game. 

“What was that for?” Chansung asks calmly, letting go of the pillow to get the remote again. 

“You know I hate when you keep changing the channel.”

“But there’s nothing good on.”

“Then turn off the TV and find something else to do.”

Chansung keeps staring at him, but Junho doesn’t look up throughout the exchange. His fingers only stop moving when he frowns and curses at the mobile. Chansung sighs, turns off the television and slides down and around the couch until his legs are dangling off the backrest. He’s bored, even though he knows there’s no excuse for that. There are so many things he could be doing, yet he doesn’t feel up for any homely activity. Not even eating, he realizes upon scratching at his belly and getting no answer from his stomach.

“Where’s Khun hyung?”

Junho shrugs. Chansung rolls his eyes, gets up and goes to the armchair on which the other’s sitting. He doesn’t get to bite Junho’s neck though because the latter’s already pushing his face away. Chansung laughs as he walks off to Nichkhun’s room, knocking despite the half open door.

“Khun yah?”

“Heeey,” Nichkhun calls, his voice welcoming him in, so Chansung follows it. The Thai is sitting on the bed, the laptop on his thighs. He’s wearing some faded Mickey pajamas that Chansung is almost sure he got from the fans years ago, and he looks ready to sleep. 

Chansung falters, but still asks, “Are you busy, hyung?”

Nichkhun catches on quickly on his uncanny use of formalities - twice in a row. He pats at the space left on the bed and Chansung all but throws himself there, appreciating the way Nichkhun smiles at him. “Maknae?”

Chansung looks up at him. “I wanted to go out.”

“So go out.” Nichkhun’s smile tells him he heard the invitation but will turn it down. “I was about to skype call ma.”

Chansung’s silent for a while, thinking of his own family. Maybe he ought to call his mother too. “Do you know if Minjun hyung is home tonight?”

“Drop the hyung, it’s weirding me out,” Nichkhun frowns at him but his face still looks too kind and Chansung knows he’s being teased, but the request is real. “You usually know about our schedules better than any of us. You could ask Woodongie, though.”

“Think they’d be up for clubbing?”

Nichkhun laughs as if to ask, “Are those two ever not?”, and Chansung smiles.

“Sometimes our ahjusshi gets pretty lazy.”

“Yah!” Nichkhun tries to imitate Minjun, and successful or not he makes Chansung cackle. “I told you to cut out the formalities but that’s still not an excuse to diss your hyungs, you punk!”



Sometime later, having called his mother and assuring her he was alright, no I’m just tired mom, yeah I’m eating well, no you don’t need to come and visit, Junho’s mom already does that often enough, seriously, haha, yes he pretends he doesn’t like it but he misses her so much, of course I miss you too mom; he calls Minjun and takes a deep breath as soon as the other picks up.

“Hyuuuuuuuuuuuung~”

Minjun’s breath of a laugh makes him smile in return. Even though Chansung doesn’t like playing the clingy maknae, which Minjun’s well aware of, Chansung also knows Minjun loves it when he puts on that façade. “Ah, Chansungie, how u doin’?”

“I miss you, hyuuuung~”

Minjun snorts softly. “Aish, is that why you called?”

“Minjunniiiie, where’s the love for your favorite dongsaeng?” Chansung can barely hold it in any longer and he laughs not long before Minjun does the same.

“What is this? You up to something?”

“Ne, hyung ah, I just wanted to hang out with you.”

“Tell me I’m your first option and I might believe you.” At Chansung’s snort, Minjun clicks his tongue twice. “Knew it.”

Chansung pouts even though the other can’t see him, but he makes sure his voice makes up for that. “Please, hyung, I don’t wanna stay hoooome...”

“Fought with your mates?”

“Nooo, I didn’t!”

Minjun’s voice still lets his amusement show. “Chansung goon, shouldn’t ya be catching up on your sleep?”

He pouts again. “It’s too early.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Yes, hyung ah, I ate well.”

Minjun’s silent laughter and muttering is the only sound for a while. “Chansungie, I’m working on a song right now. It is early tho, so I might join ya if you’re still up in, like, two hours. If you’re asleep I’ll bang on the door and if Junho answers and es I’ll kick your , okay?”

“But, hyung, if you make me wait for nothing I’ll give you the No Love treatment.”

“How dare you threat me like that, you punk!”

“Minjun ah, it’s only because I know you miss me too.”

“Stop trying to channel Wooyoungie.”

“Hyuuuuuuuung,” he whines. “That’s unfair.”

He can hear Minjun’s smile on the line. “Okay, damn you.”

“Is that a yes, hyung?”

“Yeah, I’ll pick you up later, okay?”

“Hyung ah, saranghae!”



“FYI... I recorded all that,” Junho says just before Chansung leaves the dorm.