Ship/Member: Jeonghan-centric Major Tags: N/A Additional Tags: vaguely 2020 OTY tour; unrequited minwon; unrequited jeongcheol Permission to remix: Please ask
consider: what if you were the one let go
***
The ground starts spinning as the last “Aju Nice” ends.
If Seungcheol were here, he'd be making that face. That you are my responsibility face, eyes wide with fire and worry that can't be silenced with a simple shrug.
As it were, Seungcheol is not present, and won't be for at least another couple of days. And as it were, Jeonghan isn't speaking to him. But that's another thing entirely.
Backstage, it's somehow hotter than it was under the spotlights. Hotter than the showers Jeonghan takes to attempt to steam some sort of energy out of his weary bones each morning. Than the flash of annoyance when someone asks him to consider taking a break on the next stop.
Luckily, the spinning has started to slow. It isn't the kind that makes Jeonghan’s chest cave in, a monster swallowing grief and repressed desires buried in his chest. Someone is shouting for water over the chorus of tired sounds, and a manager is reaching for him with a concerned look on their face.
“Why don't we travel with a physician, again?” someone asks. One of the members. Maybe Minghao. He's right. He's heard that some groups even travel with a massage therapist. That sounds nice.
A sports drink gets pushed in Jeonghan’s hands, and he's drunk most of it by the time he finally sets his hands on the familiar black duffel bag that Mingyu had gifted him for his birthday.
There's still so many obligations to fulfill before send-off. His phone is nearly dead from the wave of notifications crashing in at turn-on, and there's still some filming to happen before turning in for the night.
Jeonghan’s gotten the right amount of bitch down to a science. Snippy enough that people given him a wide berth for most of tour, gleaning his sour mood from the handful of passive aggressive emoji in the groupchat pre-travel days.
There's something awful about being the one who everyone treads carefully around. Chronic fatigue has only gotten worse as time goes on. Seungkwan refuses to leave him alone, however, and deep down, they both know why.
A hand steadies him as he climbs into the hotel shuttle. Jeonghan barely remembers the flashing lights and screaming fans sending them off. Maybe there was a sign with his face on it that someone will mention later, or a Carat he'd held eye contact for a millisecond who found meaning in the micro-acknowledgment.
He genuinely hopes there was something there to give some small comfort, some positivity in how awful he feels. Later, he'll probably catch some video of himself with unseeing eyes, not knowing where the person wearing his face has gone.
Wordlessly, Wonwoo sets acetaminophen in his lap. It's sealed in a tiny medicine bag, paired off with something that looks like one of the supplements Jeonghan left back at the hotel. He takes it with the last bit of what's in the bottle and sets his head on Wonwoo’s shoulder.
“Thank you,” he says into the scarf Wonwoo is using as a makeshift pillow. His hum of acknowledgement vibrates through Jeonghan’s body.
“Any time.”
----
🍊 boo seungkwan [11:38 am] food in jun and shua’s room mingyu was looking for u but left with wonu earlier
🐰 yoon jeonghan [1:53 pm] ah is there still food jk kyeomie is here
[2:40 pm] are they still filming where is mingyu now
----
Mingyu’s room is single-occupancy, but still filled to the brim with supplies to feed thirteen people and their crew. Typically, they keep a room just for snacks for the members to grab, but Mingyu had jumped at the opportunity to get some alone time. Jeonghan can’t say he blames him for snagging slices of silence where he can get them.
He ends up drifting there in the evening, head in Mingyu’s lap. Jeonghan toys with the strings of his hoodie, staring blankly at the TV. God, his English sucks. Nothing makes sense.
“What did you do today?” Jeonghan had finally peeled himself out of bed around 3 pm to take a walk, finding their floor unsurprisingly silent. Flights to the next city start departing early in the morning after, so maximizing any off time is a priority.
He feels helpless when they're overseas in cities where he doesn't speak the language. No amount of research can settle the bubbling unease each time an unfamiliar scenario arises. Staying close to the hotel until they end up splitting off for dinner is safe.
Mingyu talks about the museum he’d traversed to in the early afternoon, showing off pictures from his day. Even for shots taken on his iPhone, the photo quality is miles above anything that Jeonghan has ever taken. Not that he’s ever taking anything past half-face selcas to send off to his sister these days.
Were things different, he'd send them to Seungcheol. Find the courage to say the words I miss you when they're written down. But that moment has long passed.
Jeonghan’s stomach grumbles loud enough that it interrupts their conversation, and Jeonghan drops into the theatrics, draping an arm over his eyes. “Hey. Feed me.”
Mingyu snorts. His attention is back on his phone. Jeonghan catches a glimpse of KaTalk on his screen. The name he sees is unsurprising.
“Feed yourself. The microwave is right there.”
Packs of instant noodles line the chair furthest from the door from the staff’s last grocery run. It's almost certain that they'll give him a sodium headache, but it's about the principle of the thing, really.
Mingyu threads his fingers through Jeonghan’s hair, letting the strands drape over his fingers. It’s a good sign that he’ll cave. He keeps the small talk going to wear Mingyu down, and the TV flicks to something that looks familiar. Jeonghan can't understand more than half of the dialogue, so he keeps talking.
Mingyu pulls a throw over both of them, Jeonghan’s body and Mingyu’s legs. He smells warm. Jeonghan curls into his hoodie even more, fabric over fists.
“So,” Jeonghan finally comes to a stop, yawning. Mingyu’s fingers are still in his hair, brushing the bangs back.
“So?”
“How long was Wonwoo here for?”
Mingyu stills at being caught.
“Long enough.”
“No need to be defensive.”
Jeonghan heaves himself into Mingyu’s lap with a soft groan. Legs over legs, thigh over thigh. Mingyu’s ears are burning red, face matches the hue.
“You're reading into it too much,” Mingyu stares past him, suddenly taken with a toothpaste commercial.
He may be a decent actor, but he's a terrible liar.
“Do you want me to talk to him?”
Mingyu crosses his arms then, eyes jumping back to Jeonghan. He can hear the pout in his voice when he says, “No,” and “There’s nothing to say, hyung,” lisp hyper prominent and dripping poorly concealed annoyance.
Jeonghan raises a hand on his cheek.
Mingyu’s hackles retract.
“You know you can talk to me about this.”
The defense falters for the briefest of seconds.
“There's really nothing to say.”
There’s something unfathomable about loving someone so much that every second by their side in any circumstance doesn't feel like enough.
Mingyu moves out from under Jeonghan, suddenly busying himself with making him food. He knows deep down it was a cruel direction to take, one that will sit heavy in his gut.
What’s in Mingyu’s eyes is reflected in Jeonghan’s, opposite ends of the same moving stream.
FILL: bitter after
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: vaguely 2020 OTY tour; unrequited minwon; unrequited jeongcheol
Permission to remix: Please ask
consider: what if you were the one let go
***
The ground starts spinning as the last “Aju Nice” ends.
If Seungcheol were here, he'd be making that face. That you are my responsibility face, eyes wide with fire and worry that can't be silenced with a simple shrug.
As it were, Seungcheol is not present, and won't be for at least another couple of days. And as it were, Jeonghan isn't speaking to him. But that's another thing entirely.
Backstage, it's somehow hotter than it was under the spotlights. Hotter than the showers Jeonghan takes to attempt to steam some sort of energy out of his weary bones each morning. Than the flash of annoyance when someone asks him to consider taking a break on the next stop.
Luckily, the spinning has started to slow. It isn't the kind that makes Jeonghan’s chest cave in, a monster swallowing grief and repressed desires buried in his chest.
Someone is shouting for water over the chorus of tired sounds, and a manager is reaching for him with a concerned look on their face.
“Why don't we travel with a physician, again?” someone asks. One of the members. Maybe Minghao. He's right. He's heard that some groups even travel with a massage therapist. That sounds nice.
A sports drink gets pushed in Jeonghan’s hands, and he's drunk most of it by the time he finally sets his hands on the familiar black duffel bag that Mingyu had gifted him for his birthday.
There's still so many obligations to fulfill before send-off. His phone is nearly dead from the wave of notifications crashing in at turn-on, and there's still some filming to happen before turning in for the night.
Jeonghan’s gotten the right amount of bitch down to a science. Snippy enough that people given him a wide berth for most of tour, gleaning his sour mood from the handful of passive aggressive emoji in the groupchat pre-travel days.
There's something awful about being the one who everyone treads carefully around. Chronic fatigue has only gotten worse as time goes on. Seungkwan refuses to leave him alone, however, and deep down, they both know why.
A hand steadies him as he climbs into the hotel shuttle. Jeonghan barely remembers the flashing lights and screaming fans sending them off. Maybe there was a sign with his face on it that someone will mention later, or a Carat he'd held eye contact for a millisecond who found meaning in the micro-acknowledgment.
He genuinely hopes there was something there to give some small comfort, some positivity in how awful he feels. Later, he'll probably catch some video of himself with unseeing eyes, not knowing where the person wearing his face has gone.
Wordlessly, Wonwoo sets acetaminophen in his lap. It's sealed in a tiny medicine bag, paired off with something that looks like one of the supplements Jeonghan left back at the hotel. He takes it with the last bit of what's in the bottle and sets his head on Wonwoo’s shoulder.
“Thank you,” he says into the scarf Wonwoo is using as a makeshift pillow. His hum of acknowledgement vibrates through Jeonghan’s body.
“Any time.”
----
🍊 boo seungkwan
[11:38 am]
food in jun and shua’s room
mingyu was looking for u but left with wonu earlier
🐰 yoon jeonghan
[1:53 pm]
ah is there still food
jk kyeomie is here
[2:40 pm]
are they still filming
where is mingyu now
----
Mingyu’s room is single-occupancy, but still filled to the brim with supplies to feed thirteen people and their crew. Typically, they keep a room just for snacks for the members to grab, but Mingyu had jumped at the opportunity to get some alone time. Jeonghan can’t say he blames him for snagging slices of silence where he can get them.
He ends up drifting there in the evening, head in Mingyu’s lap. Jeonghan toys with the strings of his hoodie, staring blankly at the TV. God, his English sucks. Nothing makes sense.
“What did you do today?”
Jeonghan had finally peeled himself out of bed around 3 pm to take a walk, finding their floor unsurprisingly silent. Flights to the next city start departing early in the morning after, so maximizing any off time is a priority.
He feels helpless when they're overseas in cities where he doesn't speak the language. No amount of research can settle the bubbling unease each time an unfamiliar scenario arises. Staying close to the hotel until they end up splitting off for dinner is safe.
Mingyu talks about the museum he’d traversed to in the early afternoon, showing off pictures from his day. Even for shots taken on his iPhone, the photo quality is miles above anything that Jeonghan has ever taken. Not that he’s ever taking anything past half-face selcas to send off to his sister these days.
Were things different, he'd send them to Seungcheol. Find the courage to say the words I miss you when they're written down. But that moment has long passed.
Jeonghan’s stomach grumbles loud enough that it interrupts their conversation, and Jeonghan drops into the theatrics, draping an arm over his eyes. “Hey. Feed me.”
Mingyu snorts. His attention is back on his phone. Jeonghan catches a glimpse of KaTalk on his screen. The name he sees is unsurprising.
“Feed yourself. The microwave is right there.”
Packs of instant noodles line the chair furthest from the door from the staff’s last grocery run. It's almost certain that they'll give him a sodium headache, but it's about the principle of the thing, really.
Mingyu threads his fingers through Jeonghan’s hair, letting the strands drape over his fingers. It’s a good sign that he’ll cave. He keeps the small talk going to wear Mingyu down, and the TV flicks to something that looks familiar. Jeonghan can't understand more than half of the dialogue, so he keeps talking.
Mingyu pulls a throw over both of them, Jeonghan’s body and Mingyu’s legs. He smells warm. Jeonghan curls into his hoodie even more, fabric over fists.
“So,” Jeonghan finally comes to a stop, yawning. Mingyu’s fingers are still in his hair, brushing the bangs back.
“So?”
“How long was Wonwoo here for?”
Mingyu stills at being caught.
“Long enough.”
“No need to be defensive.”
Jeonghan heaves himself into Mingyu’s lap with a soft groan. Legs over legs, thigh over thigh. Mingyu’s ears are burning red, face matches the hue.
“You're reading into it too much,” Mingyu stares past him, suddenly taken with a toothpaste commercial.
He may be a decent actor, but he's a terrible liar.
“Do you want me to talk to him?”
Mingyu crosses his arms then, eyes jumping back to Jeonghan. He can hear the pout in his voice when he says, “No,” and “There’s nothing to say, hyung,” lisp hyper prominent and dripping poorly concealed annoyance.
Jeonghan raises a hand on his cheek.
Mingyu’s hackles retract.
“You know you can talk to me about this.”
The defense falters for the briefest of seconds.
“There's really nothing to say.”
There’s something unfathomable about loving someone so much that every second by their side in any circumstance doesn't feel like enough.
Mingyu moves out from under Jeonghan, suddenly busying himself with making him food. He knows deep down it was a cruel direction to take, one that will sit heavy in his gut.
What’s in Mingyu’s eyes is reflected in Jeonghan’s, opposite ends of the same moving stream.