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“I think I was born tired,” Eric says, cutting through the silence of the practice room. He’s on his back—has been for the past 15 minutes—starfished out, eyes moving in and out of focus as he stares up into the piercing fluorescence of the overhead lights. He breathes in purposefully, tries to feel the oxygen reaching every bit of his body before he breathes out, reluctantly. “Or, like, with old man bones.”
“Old?” It’s Sangyeon laughing from above him, blocking out the lights from Eric’s eyes. He’s sweaty, his hair sticking out at different angles, and Eric would roll away to dodge any drops of sweat but he doesn’t think he could move even if he tried. Sangyeon has a water bottle dangling in his hand and it’s only then that Eric realizes how thirsty he is. Sangyeon shakes his head, still smiling, and places the bottle next to Eric’s head before walking away. It’s uncapped.
Eric’s busy figuring out the physics of drinking from a bottle while laying down when Kevin stops next to him and snatches the bottle up, waterfalling a few gulps. Eric watches the little ponytail Kevin can’t stop putting his hair into swing around as the water in the bottle disappears. “Hey,” he whines, lazily swinging out at Kevin’s foot. He misses by a wide margin, and Kevin watches him from above with a smug look on his face.
“It’s a trade off,” Kevin explains. He puts the half-empty bottle back where it was and drops a little towel on Eric’s face before walking off.
Eric closes his eyes under the towel. The lights are so bright that he can still see the glow from the light fixtures. Maybe the towel will soak up all his sweat and just morph into his body, then he can be wrung out and put somewhere to dry. He’ll be free of the responsibility of moving.
He’s almost become one with the cotton of the towel when it gets lifted off of his face. He keeps his eyes closed, the faint glow of the lights threatening full brightness again. He feels a hand brush the hair off his forehead and breathes in deep when it makes the air cooler. The towel returns, but this time it’s with light pressure on his face, someone dabbing it where Eric knows his skin is shining something awful with drying sweat.
“See, this is why you’re my bias, hyung,” Eric says. His eyes are still closed but he knows it’s Juyeon. Some things are certain, like the familiar burn from calf to hamstring after dancing half the day away, jet lag after crossing too many time zones, and Juyeon ending up by his side. He’s always been a constant. Since he was picking him up from school, and staying with him in the practice room into the ungodly hours of the night, to visiting his house in America, to—whatever’s going on lately.
“Anything for my number one fan,” Juyeon says with a quiet laugh. Juyeon brushes at the front of his hair again, parting it in the middle so that the center of his forehead is free. The air conditioning finally reaches his brain. “You good?”
“I am,” Eric starts, not knowing exactly how he’s going to answer. Yeah, he’s tired, but so is everyone else. “Never going to move from this spot.” he finishes. It might be true, too. By now he’s been on the floor for a good half hour. Some of the guys have cleared the practice room, but he can tell that some of them still haven’t left, their voices a low rumble as they all try to cool down. Practice really was an endless loop, countless repeats of the same steps, synchronization just not quite there. “And I think I’ll die of dehydration eventually.”
Juyeon shakes the water bottle by Eric’s head. It’s definitely the sound that sends a shiver down to his toes, not the way Juyeon’s fingers brush the shell of his ear before he puts the bottle back down. “Finish this before you start planning your funeral.”
Eric pouts. He almost considers crossing his arms over his chest but decides not to after weighing how much effort it would take to do so. “I didn’t even get to drink any before Kevin drank half of it.”
Juyeon tuts, sounding displeased. “That won’t do.” Eric doesn’t get a chance to reply before Juyeon’s leaning over him and hoisting him up by his biceps, pulling Eric’s uselessly floppy body over onto his lap. He wants to protest because he’s sticky and gross, but Juyeon’s never been bothered by things like that. It’s always something, being moved around by Juyeon. Eric blinks his eyes open, squinting to shield himself from the lights, and is met with Juyeon’s smiling face. The hollow of his neck is glistening with a sheen of sweat, the kind that doesn’t go away until leaving the humidity of the practice room.
“We’re gonna end up stuck together, and nobody’s going to scrape us off the floor, hyung,” Eric whines again, but with very little conviction. He’s distracted by Juyeon’s lone collarbone showing from how loose his shirt is. He drags his eyes away and gets stuck at the curve at the corner of Juyeon’s mouth, at his temples where it’s slightly darker than the rest of his hair—how the rest of his hair is fluffy from almost being dried back to normal.
Juyeon shrugs, unfazed. He shifts, moving his legs about under Eric’s back, keeping one leg crossed and stretching the other one out, bending it at the knee so that Eric’s elevated. Juyeon settles and watches him for a moment and Eric wonders what he looks like right now. Probably the perfect candidate for a face mask. His skin is okay, except for this spot on his chin that’s going through a rough patch, and his lips are chapped. He knows he probably looks as tired as he feels. Juyeon doesn’t say anything, though. He only brings a hand up to tilt Eric’s face about, holding him carefully, fingers like a brand. A feeling Eric’s not dared to put a name to yet stirs in his gut and he squirms. Juyeon lets go of his chin and when he brings his hand back up, he’s armed with the water bottle.
Right. It’s not like Eric thought he was going to—
“Water?” Juyeon asks, innocently. Like he’s not shifting very carefully placed goalposts.
Maybe Eric’s limbs are working again. His brain currently isn’t but he can probably hold up the bottle. “Yeah, thanks,” he says, reaching a sore arm out for it.
Juyeon shakes his head, holding the bottle back a little, out of Eric’s reach. “I’ll do it.”
“You don’t have to,” Eric mumbles, but he’s secretly delighted. Just like getting moved around, there’s something about being taken care of by Juyeon.
“Anything for my number one fan,” Juyeon quips, referencing Eric’s earlier comment. He looks pleased with himself, grinning at his own wit. Eric tries not to think about what it means for Juyeon to do things for him simply because he knows how much it makes Eric gloat. When he puts the bottle to Eric’s mouth, Juyeon’s eyes flitter from his lips to his eyes like he can’t decide where to look. Eric makes himself look off to the side and focuses very hard on not choking.
“Thanks.” Eric closes his eyes after his final sip. It’s starting to feel like maybe his muscles are worth something again, like he won’t actually be immobilized forever in the practice room. He’s floaty, the cooldown finally getting to him. He’s knocked out of his trance when he feels a thumb at the corner of his lip, the finger pad catching on where it’s chapped. He blinks his eyes open and Juyeon’s still looking at him. Oh.
“Water,” Juyeon shrugs sheepishly, like that’s enough of an explanation.
It’s not. But it also is, with the way Juyeon’s eyes go right back to looking at his lips. Eric wants to do something—anything—like let his tongue swipe along his bottom lip, or look Juyeon right in his eyes, or shoot out of the practice room like a goddamn rocket, but he doesn’t get to do anything other than sputter before Jaehyun comes bounding over to them, shoving his phone in their faces.
Eric swallows hard, throat suddenly drier than it was right after practice finished, and tunes in to what Jaehyun is telling them.
He still doesn’t have the energy to move but his mind is running a thousand miles a minute.
◈
There’s another day in a succession of days where it feels like every hour spent awake is stretched into five more grueling hours, where no matter how many different things they’re doing, Eric feels like it’s all in slow motion. Once again, Eric is pretty sure he was actually born tired.
Eric’s always been a capable person. He’s done so much in such a short amount of time. Every sport he could convince his mom to let him join, instruments he still remembers how to play, hobbies he’s loved and forgotten about. He’s often driven by competitiveness, by the need to be good—the best—at what he does. He’s no stranger to finding failure before triumph. That doesn’t make the struggle less tiring. And honestly - he’s tired.
But more than anything, he wants this. To be an idol worth supporting. To become better with every day spent at the company, practicing skills until the sun’s rising. To make a name for himself, for the group. He wants it all, and so he understands. It’s not all glamour and adoration from fans. Not every day is going to be easy. The hard ones are hard, though.
He’s on his computer at his desk clicking around when he moves the mouse too far over and knocks his drink all over the desk, liquid narrowly missing the keyboard, and that’s enough to be the breaking point. He considers shouting, or crying, maybe taking a picture to share his moment of misfortune, but all he can do is power off the computer and sit there for a moment. A few moments. He doesn’t have enough energy to get frustrated, but he has just enough energy to use his wet wipes to clean the desk off before folding his arms on the driest part of the desk and burying his head there.
Not even five minutes later, Juyeon’s at the door, knocking and entering with a whistle. He’s got a spring to his step, carrying what looks like takeout in his hand.
“You look like you could use a pick me up,” Juyeon sing-songs.
Eric turns his head to the side to mock-glare at Juyeon. “You can’t even really see my face.”
Juyeon moves Eric’s phone from the middle of the desk, replacing it with what Eric can now see is tteokbokki. “Don’t need to,” he responds. “I knew it before I got here.” It’s a thing Juyeon does often. Know what he needs even when Eric himself doesn’t.
Eric can’t stop the smile from taking over his face because, yeah, he did need this. He’s not going to bother mentioning the spill, too happy to see Juyeon and food in the same space.
He’s only gotten a few bites in when his phone buzzes. “They need me for recording,” Eric sighs. Before he’s even finished his sentence two more messages have popped up on his screen. Before he can sigh again, he’s getting an incoming call. He presses ignore and takes a final bite of tteokbokki.
“But I need you here to finish eating this,” Juyeon frowns.
“Save some for me?” Eric’s already standing, gathering his things in a race to beat the next call from their manager. He doesn’t turn to see what Juyeon looks like, but he hears an affirmation and leaves with a wave.
When he gets back to their studio room, Juyeon is gone, but the tteokbokki is still there, closed up with a sticky note on top saying “I’ll be back!!” that looks like it was hastily scrawled out, words crooked on the paper. If Juyeon was called for recording it could take hours for him to return.
Alone again, Eric doesn’t really feel like messing with the computer, still annoyed by his drink's unfortunate death. His throat burns a little, overuse in the recording studio leaving everything sort of scratchy. Spending so much time in the booth always leaves him feeling a little empty, like he poured out everything he had into the microphone only to be left with nothing for himself. It’s worse when it’s lyrics he’s written himself, self-exposure to the producers leaving him like an open book.
He considers taking a power nap but decides to turn on VLive instead. The familiar banter from fans telling him to take care of himself and rest well while they also stay up late to watch him is grounding. It’s a weight lifted off of his shoulders to chat aimlessly, read what fans are thinking, and get their instant response. Moments like this fuel energy into him, giving him something that can’t be produced otherwise. He says goodbye after a short while because it really is getting late, and he can already predict the messages he’ll get from their manager.
After shutting off the live Eric feels strange. He’s still tired, and he feels so much better after communicating with fans, even if only for a short time, but that emptiness from recording still makes his chest ring hollow. Going from speaking to thousands of people to sitting in silence is always jarring. Maybe he should try to get a nap in.
Eric jolts awake after what could be one minute or several hours to the sound of the door closing. His neck is killing him and he rolls it side to side for a second before turning to see who it is.
“Sorry,” Juyeon whispers with a grimace, like the room doesn’t belong to him as well. “Were you sleeping?”
“I think so?” Eric yawns, stretching his arms up. His entire body is killing him, actually.
Juyeon walks up behind him and places both his hands on Eric’s shoulders. Like a ragdoll, the tension bleeds out of Eric in an instant. Juyeon adds pressure, right into a knot at the base of Eric’s neck. “Long days like these, you have to get up and stretch.”
“That’s why I have you here to remind me.” Eric has to bite down a groan when Juyeon works at the knot, the painful almost-pleasure making his head spin.
Juyeon works in silence, kneading carefully where Eric is sore. Eric tries not to think about how he’s so grateful he could cry, or about how Juyeon’s hands fit along the slope of his shoulders. He tries not to think at all.
“Do you feel like—“ Eric suddenly begins, tripping over his words. Every question on the tip of his tongue ends with “too.” Seeking approval from Juyeon comes naturally, a learned response—Pavlovian excitement driving him to seek it out knowing that anything Juyeon says is something he wants to hear. Everything he wants to ask now, though, has him holding his tongue. “Actually—nevermind. I don’t even know what I’m asking. I’m still kinda sleepy.”
Juyeon takes it in, considering. Eric can’t turn his head fully but he cranes his neck to get a better look at Juyeon. His head is tilted to the side and he has his lower lip between his teeth like he’s actually trying to decipher what Eric just said. “I think,” Juyeon says, “that I do too. Feel whatever it is you’re feeling.”
It’s a loaded statement. So many of their experiences are shared. Of course they know what it’s like to be in such a unique position. They know each other so well that it’s not uncommon to know how the other is feeling. It’s like that with the rest of the group, too. But this—this somehow feels like Juyeon knows what he’s trying to say, sending his own message between the lines, letting it hang in the unsaid.
So many things will be left as unsaid, at least for now, because there’s a clattering of noise at the door before it opens to reveal Sunwoo and Changmin with twin grins on their faces. A few seconds later, Chanhee appears, holding a huge bag in the air. “Chicken,” he says, before walking out of the door frame with Sunwoo and Changmin following closely behind.
“Let’s go with them,” Juyeon tells Eric, because he knows what they both need.
He lets Juyeon steer him through the hallways of the company, guided under the hook of his arm and by the rising voices of Chanhee, Sunwoo, and Changmin talking over each other. Eric’s already feeling lighter, the inexplicable restlessness from earlier replaced with the liveliness from in front of them. He still has a lot on his mind, but he trusts that he’ll soon find his way to the answers.
Eventually, the hard days will taper off. The work they’re all putting in will be worth it. He likes to think that not much will change; it doesn’t have to change.
Well, he thinks, leaning further into Juyeon’s side, some things could change.