Work Text:
It was just another completely normal day for the boys of the upper unit.
Junseo and Sangwon were currently locked in a silent, high-stakes standoff over the kitchen island. Between them lay a single sweet potato that looked like it was dangerously close to spoiling. Tomorrow was their concept photoshoot, and the fear of morning facial swelling was very real. They were practically static, just waiting for the other to give the first signal to dig in.
"If we split it, that’s only half the carbs," Sangwon whispered, his voice laced with the desperation of a man who had danced for nine hours straight on nothing but an iced americano. "Half the carbs means half the swelling. It’s basic science, hyung," Sangwon said, staring intently at the sweet potato.
"There is no science in that, Sangwon ah," Junseo hissed back, squinting at the potato as if it might explode. "That potato is pure betrayal wrapped in skin. If my jawline looks soft on camera tomorrow, I’m blaming you..."
At the kitchen table, completely uninvolved in the sweet potato crisis, sat Anxin and Xinlong.
Anxin was slouched so low in his chair his spine was practically a liquid, mindlessly scrolling through a video on his phone. He was incredibly bored, with absolutely nothing better to do. Across from him, bathed under the light of the kitchen, sat Xinlong.
Xinlong was meticulously peeling a mandarin orange. He was doing it with absolute focus, attempting to pull the entire rind off in one single, unbroken spiral. It was such a Xinlong thing to do—strangely specific, overly focused, and somehow still weirdly endearing.
Anxin locked his phone, letting it clatter onto the table. He looked at his hyung, then at the two stressed-out souls at the island, and felt a sudden, uncontrollable urge to stir the pot. Teasing Xinlong was, after all, Anxin’s absolute favorite pastime.
"Hey," Anxin announced, loud enough to cut through the potato negotiation. "TMI, guys! Sharing a room with Xinlong is officially a hazard to my health. I’m living with an unpredictable variety show."
Xinlong’s hand slipped. The orange peel snapped. He blinked, his large, cat-like eyes shifting upward, looking at Anxin with a mix of betrayal and confusion. "Ehhh? What? What did I do? I’m literally just standing here peeling fruit."
"You exist loudly, Longlong," Anxin pointed out, a massive, mischievous grin breaking across his face. He leaned back, crossing his arms to address Junseo and Sangwon, who had successfully paused their arguing to listen to the tea. "You guys have no idea what goes on behind closed doors. Last night, around 2:00 AM, the room is dead silent, right? Suddenly, this one sit up straight in bed. Fully upright. He clears his throat, points at the wall, and says, 'The formation needs to be a perfect triangle. Junseo hyung can't be seen in the back.' in this stern leader-like voice."
Junseo offendedly gasped from the kitchen island. "Hey! Why am I in the back of a dream formation?!"
"Exactly!" Anxin laughed, delighted by the reaction. "And then, before I can even process the fact that my roommate is projecting dance choreo into thin air, he just drops back down onto his pillow and starts giggling like a cartoon villain. Just... 'Hehehe.' Then he goes right back to snoring."
Xinlong’s cheeks flushed a sudden pink. He tried to shield his face with his hands, the half-peeled orange still clutched in his palm. "Anxin ah! Why are you telling them that?! It was a dream!"
Truth be told, Xinlong already knew he sleep-talked. He had been doing it ever since he was a kid. He didn't really know why either, maybe sleep-talking was contagious, because his childhood friend a.k.a his brother Zihao used to do the exact same thing.
"That’s not even the best part," Anxin continued, his voice dripping with affection under the guise of fake complaints. He loved this. He loved showing off how funny and weird his Longlong was. To Anxin, it was a flex. It meant they were close enough to know these ridiculous things about each other. "At 3:00 AM, I wake up because the mattress is vibrating. I think it’s an earthquake. I look over, and he’s buried under three layers of blankets, scrolling through memes, laughing so hard he’s practically suffocating himself. It sounds like a broken motor, I swear."
Sangwon snorted, finally breaking away from the potato. "Long-ah~ you really do that? I thought you were the quiet one in the group."
"I am quiet!" Xinlong defended himself, his voice pitching high in embarrassment. He looked at Anxin, his fingers suddenly feeling clumsy against the fruit. "Is it... is it really that loud, Anxin ah? You never told me."
"Incredibly loud," Anxin teased, leaning across the table to playfully poke Xinlong’s forearm. "But it’s fine. At least our room is never boring. Keep doing it, it keeps me on my toes."
Anxin went back to his phone, fully satisfied with his performance. He thought nothing of it. To him, it was nothing serious. Just harmless teasing. The kind of banter they’d always had. His way of showing affection.
But Xinlong’s hyper-considerate, easily panicked brain didn't process the fond grin on Anxin's face. It didn't register the "it's fine." All Xinlong's brain heard, loud and clear, echoing on a loop, was: I am ruining my member's sleep. Anxin is tired because of me. I am a bad hyung and a terrible roommate.
And once Xinlong got stuck in a thought spiral like that, it was almost impossible to pull himself back out.
Later that night, the dorm had finally gone dark. Junseo and Sangwon had eventually split the sweet potato, crying tears of both joy and guilt, before passing out in their room.
In Anxin and Xinlong’s room, the main lights were off. Their beds were pushed completely together because they said it saved way more space in a room that was too small for two separate frames, and truthfully, they actually liked being close. It meant their blankets practically touched, separated only by a tiny invisible line neither of them really paid attention to anymore.
Anxin was just starting to drift off, eyes heavy and limbs warm with sleep, when he heard a strange scritch-scratch sound coming from the side of the bed.
He groaned, rolling over on his side. "Longlong... what are you doing? Are you unboxing a parcel over there? It's so late."
Xinlong was sitting cross-legged on his side of the mattress. He wasn't looking at his phone. Instead, he was holding a box of mouth tape he’d bought earlier from the convenience store near their dorm, staring at it with the kind of deadly serious expression people usually reserved for life-changing decisions.
Anxin squinted through the dark, still half asleep. “Longlong… what even is that box? Is that a Labubu?”
"Anxin ah," Xinlong said, his voice dropping into a solemn, low register. He held up the mouth tape. "It's mouth tape. I bought it earlier at the store because I saw online that a lot of people use it. I thought about it. If I tape my mouth shut before I go to sleep, I won't be able to sleep-talk."
Anxin stared at him. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.
"Yah! Are you completely insane?!" Anxin burst out, lunging across the gap between them. He snatched the box of mouth tape out of Xinlong's hands and threw it across the room, where it hit the door. "What is wrong with your brain?! You’re going to suffocate yourself, you idiot!"
Xinlong blinked, looking slightly disheartened. "But you said I was a hazard to your health..."
"Noooo, come here," Anxin groaned, reaching out to grab the collar of Xinlong's pajamas and dragging him down onto the mattress. "I talk about your sleep-talking because it's funny. I don't actually care. Now go to sleep before I actually tape your mouth shut myself using duct tape."
Xinlong offered a small, quiet chuckle, letting himself be pulled down into the blankets. "Okay. If you say so."
"I do say so. Goodnight, Longlong."
"Okay... goodnight."
Anxin rolled back to his side, closing his eyes, thinking the crisis was averted. He didn't see the way Xinlong stayed awake for the next hour, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, carefully regulating the volume of his own breathing.
The final, catastrophic hit to Xinlong’s already fragile peace of mind came two days later.
The members from the other dorm had swarmed their living room after a particularly brutal vocal evaluation. All eight of them were crammed into the space, talking over each other so loudly it was impossible to follow a single conversation properly, and the air smelled heavily of food deliveries.
During a rare moment of quiet, Leo stretched his long legs out on the rug and sighed contentedly. "Man, the atmosphere in your dorm is really different. In ours at night, it’s like a graveyard. Everyone just goes to sleep. No noise, pure peace."
Anxin, who was currently lying flat on his stomach on the floor, dealing with a massive muscle knot in his lower back from dance practice, let out a dramatic, soul-crushing groan into the carpet.
"Ah, really? Man... I want some peace too."
Anxin meant it generally. He meant he was exhausted from the impending comeback pressure. He meant he wished the entire idol training lifestyle could pause for just twenty-four hours so his legs would stop aching.
But across the room, sitting on the armrest of the couch, Xinlong went completely still.
The noodles he was eating suddenly felt incredibly heavy. Peace, Xinlong thought. And in Xinlong’s head, the thought connected itself instantly to their room. He wants peace. Is it because our room isn't peaceful? Oh, definitely. It's because of me.
Xinlong looked down at his phone, the natural curve of his lips dropping instantly into a straight, rigid line. He didn't say a single word. Didn’t interrupt. Didn’t ask for clarification. He just nodded quietly to himself, his overthinking mind and his level 10000000 consideration for others locking the conclusion into place with absolute certainty.
I am a nuisance, and once Xinlong decided something like that, he treated it like fact.
I have to fix this, he thought.
I have to fix myself.
The change happened so subtly that, at first, Anxin’s exhausted brain brushed it off as a trick of his mind.
The first night, they got back from a schedule and collapsed into bed a little after midnight. Their shoulders bumped briefly as they pulled their blankets up, the familiar routine automatic at this point. Anxin drifted off listening to the usual sounds of Xinlong moving around beside him, endlessly searching for the cold side of the pillow like his life depended on it.
But then, at exactly 3:45 AM, Anxin woke up.
Not because of a sound. Not because of a nightmare. His eyes just opened suddenly into complete darkness. And immediately, something felt… wrong. The room was too quiet. Usually, there was always some kind of soft background noise coming from Xinlong’s side—the steady rhythm of his breathing, the faint rustle of thick blankets whenever he shifted around in his sleep. Their room had never been truly silent before.
Drowsy and half-asleep, Anxin didn’t think twice. He simply did what he always did when he woke up in the middle of the night. He rolled onto his side and let his hand drift lazily across the tiny gap between their mattresses, searching instinctively for something familiar. A warm arm. An elbow. The soft fabric of Xinlong’s pajamas. Anything solid enough to pull him comfortably back to sleep.
His palm pressed down against the sheets.
Cold. Empty.
Anxin’s fingers curled into the fabric, his brow furrowing in his sleep-fogged state. He blinked open his eyes, squinting into the darkness. The silhouette on the other side of the bed was completely flat.
Maybe he’s just in the bathroom, Anxin’s mind mumbled, too tired to process anything deeper. He pulled his own blanket higher up on his shoulders, buried his face into his pillow, and let the heavy tide of exhaustion pull him back under.
When the loud, aggressive chime of their 7:00 AM alarm finally rang, the morning sun was bleeding through the window curtain. Anxin rolled over, groaning, and found Xinlong right there beside him. His hyung was blinking sleepily, his messy morning hair sticking up in every direction, reaching out a pale arm to shut the phone off.
"Morning," Xinlong murmured, his voice till rough with sleep.
"Morning," Anxin mumbled back, yawning. Everything felt normal. So normal, in fact, that the strange emptiness from earlier barely lingered in his mind at all. It started to feel less like something real and more like a half-forgotten dream.
But then, the dream repeated itself.
The second night, it happened again. Anxin woke up to the exact same cold sensation. He reached out, his hand sweeping across the empty sheets, finding nothing but cold air. He fell back asleep, and just like before, Xinlong was there at 7:00 AM, blinking drowsily and offering his usual gentle smile.
By the fourth night, the pattern was no longer a coincidence. It was an anomaly. Every single night, like clockwork, Anxin’s internal clock would snap him awake in the dead of night. And every single night, the mattress beside him was utterly desolate. The air in the bedroom felt too vast, too quiet, and suffocatingly still. There was no soft snoring. No rustling blankets. No muffled laughter from someone hiding under layers of comforters while scrolling through memes at 3 AM. There was just Anxin, staring into a dark room that felt entirely too big for one person.
On the sixth night, Anxin didn’t just roll over and go back to sleep.
When his eyes snapped open at 3:11 AM, the coldness beside him felt like an invisible wall. He pushed himself upright immediately, the rustle of the sheets sounding unnaturally loud in the silence. Then he rubbed his face with both hands, trying to shake off the heavy layers of sleep, and stared at the empty half of the bed. Xinlong’s blanket was neatly folded down, too neatly.
Nobody stays in the bathroom for that long, Anxin thought, a sudden spike of worry piercing through his groginess.
He swung his legs out of bed, his bare feet hitting the cold floorboards. He walked over to their bathroom first. The door was slightly ajar. He pushed it open, but the interior was pitch black and freezing. No Xinlong.
He stood there for a second in the middle of the room, scratching tiredly at the back of his neck while his sleep-deprived brain started operating entirely on instinct, leading him to do things that made absolutely no sense. He walked over to their walk-in closet, sliding the door open with a quiet shhhk sound. He pushed past hanging hoodies, padded winter coats, and bins of outfits.
"Long?" he whispered into the rack of clothes.
Nothing. Just an empty closet.
Is he downing water in the kitchen? Anxin wondered, turning back toward the main bedroom door. He stepped out into the hallway, quiet enough that he could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator from somewhere in the distance. The entire dorm was dead silent. He tiptoed down the corridor and entered the kitchen. It was completely dark. The water dispenser sat untouched. No one was there.
Anxin was starting to get genuinely nervous now. For a second, he considered just messaging Xinlong to ask where he was. Maybe he’d gone out to the convenience store or something.
But as Anxin turned to head back toward his room, a low mechanical hum stopped him in his tracks.
Whirrrrrrrl.
The small plastic floor fan in the living room was running on medium speed, slowly turning side to side as it pushed through the stale air.
Anxin frowned and stepped closer, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. And then he saw him. Xinlong was curled up on the living room sofa. Not properly sleeping, more like folded painfully into it.
The couch was way too small for him, forcing his legs into an awkward bend just to fit on the cushions. He didn’t even have a real blanket. A tiny decorative pillow had been shoved under his neck at an angle that looked genuinely uncomfortable, while a thin jacket was draped weakly across his chest for warmth.
He looked impossibly small like that. Like he was trying to take up as little space as possible. Like he was trying to disappear into the couch itself.
Anxin stood frozen at the edge of the carpet, something hot and tight twisting painfully in his chest.
What the hell are you doing out here?
For one sharp second, irritation flared faster than thought. Was Xinlong seriously sleeping on the couch right now? On that couch? What kind of insane behavior was this supposed to be?
His first instinct was to stride over, shake Xinlong by the shoulders, and demand to know what kind of madness this was. But then he took another step forward, and the weak light from the fan caught Xinlong’s face properly. Even in his sleep, his hyung's brow was slightly furrowed, and there were dark, exhausted shadows bruising the skin beneath his eyes. He looked completely worn out, his breathing shallow and guarded. And suddenly Anxin’s anger tangled itself up with something, confusion, and a heavy feeling he couldn’t properly name.
Because this wasn’t normal.
Xinlong wasn’t dramatic. He wasn’t the type to pull weird stunts for attention. If he was sleeping out here, curled into himself like this, then it meant he genuinely thought he had to.
Anxin stopped. The words caught in his throat. He realized that if he woke him up now, Xinlong would probably panic, make up some clumsy excuse, and wouldn't get another second of sleep for the rest of the night.
Silently, with a heavy, deeply confused heart, Anxin retreated back down the hallway. He climbed back into their shared room, slipping under his blanket. He lay flat on his back, staring up at the white ceiling as the hours slowly ticked away, his mind spinning in a endless loop of one single question, over and over, growing more irritated and confused each time.
Why?
Anxin didn't sleep for the rest of that night. He lay perfectly still under the heavy layers of his blanket, his eyes glued to the digital numbers on the nightstand as they slowly bled from 4:30 to 5:00, and then to 5:25 AM. The darkness outside their window was just beginning to fade into a hazy shade of purple.
And the longer Anxin lay there, the more irritated he became. Not just confused anymore. Actually annoyed. Because what even was this? What kind of ridiculous secret nighttime routine had Xinlong apparently built behind his back?
At exactly 6:00 AM, Anxin pulled out his phone, making sure the volume slider was dragged all the way to zero. He set a silent, vibrating alarm for 6:10 AM, slipping the device directly under his pillow so only he’d feel it go off. He didn't move an inch. He simply adjusted his body, rolling over to face the door, and cracked his eyelids open by a single, microscopic millimeter.
Then, he waited.
The bedroom was completely silent except for the faint rumble of early morning traffic somewhere far below their dorm building. The empty space on the mattress right next to him felt colder than ever, a glaring, hollow void that seemed to mock him.
Exactly at 6:15 AM, the silence was broken.
Clack.
It was incredibly faint, but Anxin caught it instantly, the unmistakable sound of the metal mechanism inside the bedroom doorknob shifting. The doorknob was moving. Very slowly. Like whoever was turning it was terrified of making even the slightest noise.
Anxin immediately shut his eyes, relaxing his facial muscles and regulating his breathing into the deep, slow rhythm of someone fully asleep. He kept his ears strained, listening with an intensity he didn't know he possessed. The door clicked open, just a sliver, allowing a draft of slightly cooler air from the hallway to sweep into the room.
Then came the footsteps.
Xinlong was tiptoeing. But it wasn't a normal, casual tiptoe; it was the hyper-calculated movement of a man trying to navigate a minefield in pitch darkness. His bare feet touched the floor with a feather-light pressure, pausing for three long seconds after every single step to check if Anxin had moved. Whether he’d breathed differently. Whether he’d accidentally woken him up just by existing.
Anxin nearly frowned right there with his eyes still closed. Because now that he was paying attention to it, the whole thing felt insane. Completely insane. How long has he been doing this?
Hiss.
It was quiet. Barely more than a sharp breath through clenched teeth. But it was unmistakably a pained one. From the faint rustle of fabric that followed, Anxin could piece together exactly what had happened: Xinlong had probably shifted his weight wrong and aggravated some horrible muscle knot in his back or shoulders after spending half the night folded up on that miserable couch.
Yet, despite the pain, Xinlong didn't make a real sound. He held his breath, standing frozen at the foot of the bed for what felt like an eternity, verifying that Anxin was still "asleep."
Slowly, carefully, Xinlong finally moved toward the empty side of the mattress. Even getting back into bed was treated like some kind of military stealth operation. The mattress dipped so gradually Anxin almost couldn’t feel it. Xinlong lifted his blanket inch by inch, checking that the fabric wouldn’t brush too loudly against Anxin’s side before slipping underneath it.
Then he settled down stiffly onto his back. He didn’t shift around afterward. Didn’t try to get comfortable. He just lay there stiffly on his back, perfectly straight beneath the blankets, like if he stayed still enough, Anxin would believe he’d been there the whole night.
Exactly thirty minutes later, at 6:45 AM, their actual morning alarm exploded through the silence.
Anxin waited a beat, letting the alarm ring for two seconds before he purposefully groaned, rolling over and making a show of burying his face in his hands. Beside him, he felt Xinlong react instantly, arm shooting out from under the covers to smack at the phone’s screen, silencing the noise.
Xinlong turned his head toward Anxin. His face was pale, his eyes heavily bloodshot and framed by deep, purple shadows that no amount of idol makeup was going to easily hide later that morning. Yet, despite looking like he had just survived a physical disaster, his expression softened into a gentle, soft smile.
"Good morning, Anxin ah," Xinlong murmured, his voice cracking slightly from the morning dryness.
He looked at the tired curve of his hyung's eyes, forcing his own lips to stretch upward into a bright, easy smile that felt completely unnatural on his face.
"Good morning" Anxin replied.
He watched as Xinlong slowly swung his legs out of bed, his entire posture stiff, his shoulders hunched slightly forward as if trying to shield his spine from any sudden movements.
He didn't know what kind of terrifying mental trap Xinlong had locked himself into, because whatever this was, it was already spiraling beyond something he could laugh off anymore.
With their official comeback concept photoshoot behind them, the schedule didn't ease up; it amplified. The countdown to their comeback stage was ticking down rapidly, and management had officially entered "hell week" mode. Practice hours stretched endlessly into each other until the days stopped feeling separate at all. The new title track choreography was a relentless, high-powered monster that demanded sharp, synchronized isolations, explosive jumps, and heavy floor work that left their knees bruised and their shirts soaked through within the first twenty minutes.
In the training cubicles, the air was constantly smelled like scent of medicated pain-relief patches and sweat. Rest wasn't just a luxury anymore; it was a baseline survival requirement. Every member was functioning on caffeine, adrenaline, and rapidly deteriorating sanity.
But as the second week of preparations dragged on, Xinlong was getting noticeably worse.
"Again from the second verse!" the performance director’s voice boomed through the studio speakers, loud and unforgiving. "Xinlong, watch your center of gravity on the drop! Your timing is bleeding into Junseo’s lane!"
In the wall-to-wall mirrors of the practice room, Anxin watched Xinlong’s reflection. As the beat dropped, Xinlong executed a sharp, low spin, but as he went to plant his foot and snap his torso upward, his body betrayed him.
Barely noticeable. The kind of mistake most people would’ve missed entirely. But Anxin knew Xinlong’s dancing too well. He knew every habit, every angle, every line of movement by instinct at this point. And to him, that tiny hitch looked catastrophic.
Xinlong’s hand immediately flew to his lower back, his fingers digging fiercely into his spine. His face contorted into a brief, blinding flash of agony before he violently forced his features flat, his jaw locking so tight the tendons in his neck stood out.
"Sorry," Xinlong called out, his voice breathless and strained, directed toward the mirror. "My bad. Let’s do it again."
"Take ten minutes, everyone!" the director sighed, clicking the music off.
The members collapsed instantly. Other members dropped flat onto their backs right where they stood, staring at the ceiling tiles like soldiers resting between battles. Anxin, however, didn't lie down. He walked silently to the mini-fridge near the wall, grabbed two cold water bottles, and headed toward the far corner of the studio with slow, deliberate steps.
Xinlong was sitting heavily against the mirror, his knees pulled loosely toward his chest. He was breathing heavily, his head tilted back against the cold glass, his eyes closed. The dark circles under his eyes had become so pronounced that even the heavy layer of BB cream applied by their makeup artists earlier that morning couldn't mask the gray tint of sheer exhaustion.
Anxin dropped one of the ice-cold bottles directly into Xinlong’s lap. Xinlong flinched, his eyes snapping open. The second he realized it was Anxin, he immediately tried to sit up straighter on instinct, a movement that sent a faint tremor through his shoulders before he quickly hid it.
"Your back and shoulders are totally stiff today, Longlong," Anxin said. He sat down cross-legged right next to him, his eyes boring into the side of Xinlong’s face. "What’s wrong?"
Xinlong didn't look him in the eye. He focused entirely on the water bottle, his fingers clumsily working at the plastic cap. "It’s nothing, Anxin. Just normal aching. We’ve been running the choreo for ten hours straight."
"You don't get like this after ten hours," Anxin pushed, his tone, a hard edge of frustration bleeding into his voice. He leaned in closer, refusing to let Xinlong deflect. "You’re literally one of the backbones of the dance line, Longlong. Your stamina is usually insane. We do twenty-hour MV shoots and you’re still pulling clean lines. Now, we're barely a few hours into a standard practice run and you’re already limping on the transitions?"
Before Xinlong could scramble together another excuse, a heavy arm suddenly dropped across his shoulders.
Sanghyeon had wandered over from the other side of the studio, a mischievous grin splitting his face. He nudged Xinlong’s shoulder playfully, completely unaware of how the older boy practically choked back a gasp of pain at the impact.
"Look at our Xinlong hyung!" Sanghyeon teased loudly, trying to lighten the heavy mood of the studio. "Why are you walking like a seventy-year-old grandfather today? Did the old age finally catch up to you during the bridge section?"
From across the room, Junseo let out a tired snort, and Sangwon chuckled into his hand. Xinlong forced a weak, breathy laugh to escape his lips, waving Sanghyeon off with a clumsy swat of his hand.
"Hey, respect your elders, kid," Xinlong muttered, his voice pitching slightly high in his effort to sound normal, to sound like the reliable, unshakeable hyung he thought he needed to be. "I can still out-dance you in my sleep. Don't worry about me."
Everyone laughed. Just like that, the tension dissolved. The members drifted back into their own conversations, scrolling through their phones, stretching sore muscles, or complaining dramatically about how practice was actively trying to kill them.
Except Anxin didn’t laugh.
Anxin stood up slowly, stepping a few paces away from the group. He gripped his own water bottle so tightly the thin plastic popped loudly in his fist. He wasn't laughing. He felt a hot, suffocating wave of anger bubbling up in his chest—a burning frustration that made his throat tight. He wasn't angry at Sanghyeon for joking, because Sanghyeon didn't know. He was angry at the stubborn, self-sacrificing idiot sitting against the mirror.
Anxin knew exactly why Xinlong’s elite dancer’s body was breaking down. He knew every single hour of sleep Xinlong was losing on that wretched, narrow couch. Watching his hyung smile through pure physical agony just to preserve a lie was something Anxin couldn't stand for another second.
He didn't say another word for the rest of practice. He just danced, his movements sharper, angrier, and fiercely focused, counting down the minutes until they could finally go back to the dorm.
The drive back to dorm was dead silent. While Junseo and Sangwon practically fell asleep against each other’s shoulders the second the van’s doors closed, Anxin sat rigidly in the back row, his eyes fixed firmly on the window, watching the city lights blur into streaks. Beside him, Xinlong was motionless, staring blankly at his lap, his breathing shallow as if even expanding his lungs fully was too much work for his battered spine.
When they finally staggered through the front door of the dorm, the exhaustion was palpable. They took turns in the bathroom, taking quick, silent night showers just to wash off the studio grime.
Inside their bedroom, the main lights were already switched off, leaving the room illuminated only by the faint, pale glow of the streetlamps filtering through the window blinds. Anxin walked in, dried his hair with a towel, and immediately climbed into his side of the bed. He pulled the thick blankets all the way up to his chin and closed his eyes, turning his back to the room. He made sure his breathing was heavy, perfectly mimicking someone who had collapsed into an instant, bone-deep sleep.
A few minutes later, the bathroom door clicked open. Xinlong stepped out, a soft cloud of steam following him.
Anxin didn't move a muscle. He heard the faint rustle of Xinlong’s sweatpants as he approached the edge of the mattress. He felt the long, lingering hesitation as Xinlong stood there in the dark, hovering by the bed like a shadow, waiting to ensure Anxin was fully unconscious.
Then, zip.
It was the whisper of a jacket being picked up from the chair. Xinlong was stepping away.
In a single, explosive motion, Anxin threw his blanket off. He swung his legs over the edge and stood up, his tall frame cutting through the dim moonlight as he confronted the shadow.
Xinlong jumped backward, violently startled, his heels catching against the frame of his own bed. His large, cat-like eyes widened in absolute shock, his chest heaving as he stared at Anxin. "A-Anxin-ah? You scared me. I... I thought you were asleep."
"Where are you going?" Anxin asked. His voice was deadpan, completely stripped of its usual playful tone.
Xinlong swallowed hard, his fingers nervously gripping the hem of his jacket as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The movement pulled a tiny wince across his face before he quickly smoothed it away. "Uh... nowhere. Just... going to get some water from the kitchen. I’m really thirsty."
“Okay,” Anxin replied immediately, still staring straight at him. “I’ll come too.”
Xinlong blinked.
Before he could come up with another excuse, Anxin didn't wait for a response. He marched out of the bedroom first, the heavy tension radiating off his shoulders. Xinlong had no choice but to follow him down the dark corridor, his footsteps uneven and stiff.
They stood in the dark kitchen, the quiet hum of the refrigerator the only sound between them. Anxin grabbed a glass and held it under the water dispenser, the loud, echoing rush of water filling the silence. Xinlong did the same, downing his entire glass in three huge, desperate gulps as if he were trying to swallow the panic rising in his throat. His hands were trembling slightly against the glass.
The second he finished, out of sheer, deep-seated habit and overwhelming physical exhaustion, Xinlong didn't turn back toward their shared bedroom. Instead, his body automatically drifted toward the living room, his feet leading him straight to the narrow, stiff cushions of the couch.
"Why are you there?"
Anxin’s voice cut through the darkness like a knife, halting Xinlong right in his tracks.
Xinlong froze mid-air, his body hovering just inches above the sofa cushion. Realizing he had been caught red-handed, he awkwardly lowered himself onto the edge of the couch, forcing a weak, defensive smile. “Oh… I was just sitting for a bit,” he said quickly. “Waiting for you to finish so we could go back together.”
"Cut the crap, Longlong."
Anxin didn't give him room to breathe. He strided across the living room, grabbed Xinlong firmly by the forearm, mindful of his pain but completely unyielding, and dragged him up from the sofa. He marched him straight back into their shared bedroom, shutting the heavy wooden door behind.
The air inside immediately felt smaller. Heavier. Like it had been waiting for this moment to finally collapse.
"Does your body hurt?" Anxin demanded, turning around to face him, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.
Xinlong looked down at his own bare feet, unable to hold the fierce glare in Anxin’s eyes. "I told you at the studio, Anxin. It's really normal—"
"Yeah, it’s normal," Anxin interrupted, his voice cracking on the last word, a devastating mixture of burning anger and deep, raw sorrow finally bleeding through his defenses. "It's completely normal because you keep sleeping on that stupid, cramped sofa every single night. Uncomfortably. Wrapped in a jacket. Without a proper pillow."
Xinlong’s head snapped up. His eyes widened in absolute, paralyzing shock. His mouth opened slightly, but his vocal cords seemed to fail him entirely.
"What? You think I didn't know?" Anxin stepped closer, the distance between them shrinking to nothing. In the dim light, Xinlong could see that Anxin’s eyes were completely glossy, swimming with unshed tears. "Since when, Longlong? How many days? No, wait—how many weeks have you been doing this to yourself?"
Xinlong looked completely trapped, backed against the wall of their small room.
His fingers curled tightly into the fabric of his shirt, like he was trying to hold himself together by force alone. When he finally spoke, his voice came out small—defensive in a way that had already given up. “I just… I wanted you to sleep peacefully.”
Anxin’s anger disappeared so fast it almost felt like it was ripped out of him. What was left behind was something raw and aching, a hollow sadness that made breathing feel wrong.
“You know I can’t sleep properly when you’re not there?” he choked out, wiping his face harshly with the back of his hand even as more kept coming. “I keep waking up in the middle of the night for no reason, and I don’t even understand why… but it feels cold. It feels too big.”
He swallowed hard, shaking his head like it didn’t make sense even as he said it. “And then I open my eyes,” he continued, voice cracking completely now, “and you’re not there.”
Xinlong looked like something inside him shattered cleanly. His face went still, all at once—like the last thread holding him up had snapped. “Anxin-ah…” Xinlong whispered.
But Anxin didn’t stop anymore. He scrubbed at his face again, frustrated, like he was angry at himself for crying at all. “Why are you doing this?” he said, softer now, but shaking with emotion. “Is it because of that stupid joke? Because I told the others you sleep-talk?”
His voice rose again, breaking into something desperate. “I was just teasing you, Longlong. I talk about it because it’s funny—because it’s cute. I like it. I really like it.”
He stepped forward slightly, tears still spilling even as he tried to force the words out clearly. “I like knowing how your brain works,” he said. "Why do you always have to overthink everything until you literally break your own body?"
"Because I don't want to be a nuisance to you." Xinlong finally burst out, his own voice cracking with the immense weight of weeks of suppressed exhaustion, physical pain, and severe anxiety. He looked at Anxin, his own eyes welling up with tears. “You said you wanted peace,” he continued shakily. “You said sharing a room with me was a hazard to your health. I’m the hyung, Anxin. If my stupid sleeping habits are making you tired, if I’m ruining your rest before our first comeback… then I should just remove myself. I just… I wanted to fix myself so you could have peace”
"You're realllyyyy an idiot," Anxin sobbed. He stepped forward, closing the last remaining inch of space between them, and launched himself directly into Xinlong’s chest.
He wrapped his arms tightly around Xinlong’s neck, burying his face directly into the crook of his shoulder, holding onto him as if he were anchored to life. "You're a giant, stupid overthinker."
Xinlong stood frozen for a fraction of a second, the sudden warmth of Anxin's body striking him deep in his soul. Then, as if a dam had broken, his arms automatically came up, wrapping fiercely around Anxin’s waist. He pulled Anxin so close against him that there was no air left between them, burying his face into Anxin’s soft hair, letting out a long, trembling sob of his own as the crushing weight of the last few weeks finally slid off his shoulders.
"I'm sorry," Anxin whispered into his skin, his hands gripping the fabric of Xinlong's shirt tightly. "I shouldn't have made those stupid jokes if I knew your brain would turn them into a weapon against yourself. I'm so sorry, Longlong."
"No, I'm sorry," Xinlong murmured, his voice thick and muffled against Anxin's hair, squeezing him tighter despite the dull ache in his back. "I'm sorry for overthinking. I promise... I promise I won't leave the room again."
They stayed like that for a long time, holding each other in the quiet space. The heavy, suffocating tension that had filled the room for weeks was completely gone, replaced by the soft, comforting sound of their shared breathing.
Slowly, reluctantly, Anxin pulled back just enough to look at Xinlong’s face. He lifted a hand and gently wiped a stray tear from his hyung’s cheek with his thumb.
"No more couch," Anxin ordered, trying to sound strict, but a soft, watery smile ruined the effect entirely. "If I wake up and find you sleeping on that stiff cushion again, I’m dragging you back by your ears."
Xinlong offered a small, genuine chuckle—the first real, lighthearted sound he had made in days. "Okay. No more couch. I promise."
"Good. Now get in bed. You look like a zombie, Longlong."
Anxin climbed back onto his mattress and immediately dragged his pillow right across the invisible dividing line, pressing it directly against Xinlong’s. He didn't want even an inch of empty space between them tonight. Xinlong crawled in right after him, slipping under the blankets.
The second Xinlong’s body settled into the mattress, his entire body seemed to remember what rest was supposed to feel like. The tension in his spine loosened slightly, muscles finally allowed to stop fighting for survival.
Anxin noticed immediately. He rolled over, shifting closer until his chest was practically pressed against Xinlong’s side. "Turn around," Anxin murmured, nudging his shoulder. "Give me your back."
"Anxin, it’s fine, you don't have to—"
"Longlong, turn around before I use the duct tape for real," Anxin threatened playfully. Xinlong smiled into his pillow but complied, shifting onto his side so his back was facing Anxin. Gently, deliberately, Anxin reached out. His large, warm hands settled over Xinlong’s stiff shoulders. He began to rub them, using a soft, steady pressure to knead away the deep aches that had settled into the older boy's muscles from weeks of sleeping on the sofa.
"Ah..." Xinlong let out a soft, involuntary breath, his head sinking deeper into the pillow. "That feels... really good."
"Of course it does. I’m an expert," Anxin teased, his thumbs tracking the line of Xinlong’s shoulders, pressing into the stubborn knots. "Your muscles are completely ruined. You’ve been torturing yourself for no reason, all for a silly misunderstanding."
"I just didn't want you to be tired," Xinlong whispered, his voice growing heavier and softer as the warmth of Anxin’s massage sent waves of sleepiness through his mind. "I wanted you to have a perfect condition."
"My condition is only perfect if you're standing right there beside me, healthy and smiling," Anxin said softly. He shifted closer, wrapping one arm completely around Xinlong’s waist, pulling his back flush against his chest in a tight, protective cuddle. He rested his chin softly on Xinlong's shoulder. "No more hiding things from me. Understand?"
"Mm... understand," Xinlong mumbled. The rhythmic, soothing motion of Anxin’s hand stroking his arm, combined with the absolute security of being held so close, finally broke through his remaining walls of exhaustion. Within minutes, Xinlong’s breathing slowed down, becoming deep and even as he drifted into a profound, peaceful sleep.
Anxin smiled in the dark, feeling the steady rise and fall of Xinlong’s chest against his own arm. The cold feeling that had haunted him for the past weeks was entirely gone. The bed felt warm, cozy, and perfectly full.
About an hour passed in beautiful, undisturbed silence. Anxin was just about to close his eyes and drift off himself when he felt a sudden, familiar twitch in the body next to him.
Xinlong cleared his throat softly in his sleep. He shifted slightly, burying his face deeper into the blankets, and then a slurred, muffled voice broke the quiet of the room.
"The... the triangle formation..." Xinlong mumbled, his brow furrowing slightly in his dream. "Don't put... don't put Junseo hyung in the back... put Anxin next to me..."
Anxin froze, his eyes widening in the dark before a massive, incredibly fond grin split across his face. He bit his lower lip to keep from laughing out loud. He's doing it again.
"Anxin ah..." Xinlong sleep-talked again, his voice dropping into a soft, whiny tone as he unconsciously snuggled backwards, pressing himself even closer into Anxin's embrace. "Don't go to lower floor... dorm... stay here... I love you... sleep... Love you..."
Anxin’s heart practically melted into a puddle of pure fluff. The absolute sweetness of it made his chest feel incredibly tight with affection. He tightened his grip around Xinlong’s waist, burying his face into the back of his hyung's warm neck.
"That’s exactly what I’m talking about," Anxin whispered softly, his voice overflowing with love as he listened to the gentle breathing of his roommate. "I want to hear you sleep-talk. You’re so cute, Longlong. I love you too. Sleep peacefully."
The morning sun had no business being that bright. It slipped through the cracks in the blinds and spilled across the tangled mountain of blankets in the center of the room in long, golden stripes.
Inside that cocoon of heavy duvet and soft sheets, time had completely stopped existing.
Anxin woke up slowly, the transition from deep sleep to awareness feeling like a gentle, lazy drift. Usually, the first thing he felt in the morning was the sharp ache in his calves, the mental checklist of their comeback schedule, the urgency of practice already clawing at him before his eyes were fully open.
Today, the first thing he felt was warmth. Absolute, intoxicating warmth.
He blinked his eyes open, his vision blurry, only to find that his view was entirely occupied by the soft, sleeping face of Xinlong. During the night, their positions had shifted. They were no longer just spooning; they were completely facing each other, their bodies aligned so perfectly that there wasn't a single draft of cool air between them.
Xinlong’s head was resting on the exact same pillow as Anxin’s, their faces barely two inches apart.
Anxin froze for a second, his heart doing something soft and ridiculous in his chest. In the quiet morning light, Xinlong looked incredibly soft. The tense, strained expression from the past two weeks had completely melted away, replaced by the relaxed, gentle features of a boy who finally felt safe. His lips were slightly parted, letting out tiny, even puffs of warm air.
As if sensing Anxin’s gaze, Xinlong stirred. He let out a tiny, soft whine deep in his throat—a sound so purely adorable that Anxin had to physically restrain himself from squeezing him right then and there.
Xinlong’s eyelids fluttered open. For a second, he just blinked lazily, his brain trying to process the face right in front of him. Then, a small, sleepy smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
"Anxin-ah..." Xinlong mumbled, his voice incredibly deep and raspy from sleep, sending a pleasant shiver down Anxin's spine.
Instead of moving away, Xinlong unconsciously closed the tiny gap between them. He slid his arms under Anxin's armpits, wrapping them tightly around Anxin’s back, while his legs tangled effortlessly with Anxin’s under the blanket. He buried his face right into the crook of Anxin’s neck, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of his roommate's perfume.
"Don't move," Xinlong murmured against Anxin’s skin, his grip tightening. "Five more minutes. The bed is too warm."
Anxin let out a quiet laugh, his own arms locking around Xinlong’s waist, pulling him so close their chests were completely flush. "Longlong, you're the one who wanted to wake up early every day, the one who keeps preaching discipline. What happened to that?"
"Expired," Xinlong grumbled softly, his lips brushing against Anxin’s collarbone as he spoke, making Anxin’s breath hitch. "Discipline is canceled today."
“Wow,” Anxin said, amused. “That fast?”
“Mm.”
And just like that, the teasing faded into something softer. "Yeah? Fine by me," Anxin whispered, his voice dripping with fondness.
He shifted his head back just an inch, wanting to look at his hyung again. Sensing the shift, Xinlong tilted his head up from Anxin’s neck. Suddenly, the atmosphere in the small space between their pillows shifted into something entirely different. Something completely breathtaking.
Their faces were so close now that the tips of their noses were practically brushing. Every time they breathed out, they shared the same warm air. Anxin’s eyes drifted down to Xinlong’s lips, then back up to his eyes, which were now intensely focused. The playful banter completely died out, replaced by a soft, magnetic gravity pulling them toward each other.
Neither of them moved away. In fact, Xinlong’s hand slowly slid up from Anxin’s back, his fingers gently tangling into the messy morning curls at the nape of Anxin’s neck, anchoring him there.
One single move. That was all it would take. If either of them leaned forward by just a fraction of an inch, their lips would meet. The anticipation was intoxicating, drowning them both in a bubble of pure, unfiltered sweetness. Anxin’s heart was hammering against his ribs so loudly he was certain Xinlong could hear it. Xinlong’s eyes fluttered slightly, his gaze dropping to Anxin’s mouth, his head tilting just an angle as he began to slowly close the final remaining distance.
They were completely lost to the world, entirely convinced that this beautiful, quiet reality was all that existed, totally forgetting that today was absolutely not their day off.
BAM!
The bedroom door violently swung open.
"YAH! ARE YOU TWO DEAD?!"
Junseo’s voice boomed through the room like a megaphone. He marched a single step into the room, a hairbrush clutched in one hand and a half-eaten piece of toast in the other, his hair still completely messy and unstyled. "The manager’s van is literally outside! Sangwon has been in the bathroom for forty minutes, and you two haven't even—"
Junseo froze mid-sentence. His mouth stayed wide open, the piece of toast dangerously close to falling out. His eyes slowly adjusted to the light of the bedroom, tracking down to the pushed-together beds. There, frozen like deer in headlights, were Anxin and Xinlong.
They were completely tangled in a human pretzel of limbs and blankets. Anxin’s arm was firmly locked around Xinlong’s waist, Xinlong’s fingers were still visibly buried in Anxin’s morning hair, and their faces were still a mere two inches apart, caught in the middle of what looked like a highly intimate, sweetly romantic movie poster.
The silence in the room was deafening. Junseo stared at them. Then down at the tangled legs. Then back up to their incredibly close faces.
"Oh," Junseo said. He slowly took a step backward out of the room, his eyes never leaving the bed. "Oh wow. Okay... Got it..."
"Yes, Junseo hyung?" Anxin said.
Junseo immediately raised both hands. "Going! I'm going!" Junseo gasped, his dramatic instincts finally kicking back in. He quickly grabbed the doorknob, pulling it shut, but not before shouting through the crack: "Take your time! But if manager-hyung yells at us for being late, I'm telling him you guys were busy doing a concept photoshoot in bed!"
Thud.
The door shut completely, followed by the rapid, frantic sound of Junseo scurrying back down the hallway to find Sangwon to squeal about the tea.
Inside the room, the absolute silence returned, though the heavy romantic gravity had turned into a chaotic, giggly warmth. Xinlong immediately buried his face completely into his hands, his muffled, embarrassed groans echoing through his palms. "Oh my god. I'm going to die. He's never going to let us live this down."
Anxin let out a loud, breathless laugh, the sound bright and full of joy. He reached out, playfully pulling Xinlong’s hands away from his face, forcing the blushing boy to look at him.
"Hey, let him talk," Anxin chuckled, his eyes shining with pure mischief and an overwhelming amount of affection. He leaned in, purposefully brushing his nose against Xinlong’s flushed one, making the older boy gasp softly. "But he's right about one thing... we really have to get up now."
Xinlong pouted, his fingers tightly gripping Anxin’s pajama shirt, pulling him back down just as he tried to lift himself up. "Just... one more minute? Since we're already late anyway."
Anxin looked at him for a second. He smiled, completely defeated by his hyung's unexpected cuteness, and dropped right back down into the warm blankets, sealing them back into their own little world.
"Fine. One more minute..."