Work Text:
It was an overwhelmingly busy time—busy piled on busy, pushing me right to the edge. During the recording, everyone was clearly fighting off sleep, but Daesung, especially, seemed like he hadn’t gotten any proper rest at all.
In the brief breaks, in those unguarded moments when the cameras weren’t on him, I caught him yawning again and again.
The dark circles under his eyes had been completely erased by professional hands.
His skin, stripped of any trace of humanity, shimmered with fine glitter—like a Barbie doll that had just learned how to dress itself.
That faint sense of discomfort lingered somewhere in me, unresolved, until the work finally wrapped up—earlier than usual for once.
As the moon began to rise, pale and bluish in the sky, I got into a black van that still smelled new and headed back to the hotel.
It was rare to be alone in such a spacious car.
The driver seemed to be someone external—an older man of few words.
After asking only for the destination, he drove on in silence.
I didn’t feel like looking at my phone, so I opened the window and stared outside.
The cold air brushed against my cheeks, cooling down my overheated mind.
It had been fun. I’d even felt a sense of accomplishment.
But something was missing.
Something warm—like a light softly glowing to ease the dark.
The first thing that came to mind was Daesung’s high-pitched laughter.
Usually it’s so loud it’s almost annoying… but when it’s gone, I miss it.
…Guess I’m getting old.
Missing the sound of someone’s laughter like this.
Back at the hotel, everything followed the usual routine.
Nothing out of the ordinary—
except for one thing.
For some reason, Daesung had taken over my bed.
This younger brother of mine had come to my room after dinner.
I’d barely received a message—“Can I come over?”—before the door was already being knocked on.
The moment I opened it, I smelled alcohol, mixed with a faint hint of peach.
He was drunk—obviously.
His eyes were more narrowed than usual, on the verge of closing.
He mumbled something incomprehensible, then let out a soft, satisfied laugh.
Even his usual level of physical closeness had ramped up—he practically pinned me to the bed, refusing to let go.
The arm wrapped around my waist felt stronger than before.
“Have you been working out?”
“Hehe, yeah. I’ve gotten stronger again.”
He grinned, eyes soft.
But he really was strong.
I could almost hear my bones creak.
“Ow… seriously.”
“Have you been sleeping?”
“Not at all. I was filming until late last night too.”
“I’m exhausted,” he said, laughing, before rolling onto his back.
The sparkle he carried during the day was gone.
Now there was only a worn-out man.
No idol shell, no façade—just Daesung as he is.
Even as fatigue seeped through him, he remained pure, almost painfully so.
He’s always like this.
Quietly wearing himself down, never treating it like suffering.
Someone who works harder than anyone, yet hides it instead of taking pride in it.
“…I don’t want to fall asleep alone. On days like this, I end up hating everything.”
There was no attempt to hide it—his weariness, his vulnerability, even the way his eyes drifted shut.
And yet, the gentle rise and fall of his chest felt fragile now.
It stirred something protective in me.
I ran my fingers through his smooth, platinum hair.
“Alright. Let’s sleep.”
The heavy shadows around his eyes swallowed the light from outside the window.
His pale hair caught what little remained.
When I drew the curtains, the tension left his brow.
I watched his calm profile.
“Good night, Daesung.”
In my arms, the angel I cherish let out a soft breath.
Folding his wings—
and drifting into peaceful sleep.
Just for this night,
we forget everything.