One More Year- Kasey Chambers

Night is, predictably, always Dongwoo’s favourite time of the day.

(If that makes any sense, that is.)

It’s the only time they can shed the act, shed the makeup, when they stop holding their breaths for the camera, when the glare of a thousand lights aren’t flashing in their faces. And other than being able to indulge in his favourite activity (not catnaps or jerky neck breaking winks of sleep on the company van, either, he’s talking good solid five-hour knockouts), Dongwoo appreciates the privacy amongst the five of them only their tiny little dorm can provide.

Things the camera would never be able to catch- Chansik absently doing laundry, Jinyoung wandering around in his PJs still half asleep in the morning until Dongwoo made coffee, Junghwan bare-faced, staring worriedly at himself in the mirror and denying it when they tell him not to worry about how he looks, Sunwoo shuffling into the bathroom at midnight, pressing his chin into Dongwoo’s shoulder when he’s brushing his teeth and muttering about warm milk and clipping nails, little snatches of Dongwoo’s life that remind him that this is reality, that keep him from losing himself to the dream.

But things come and things go, and some nights, the quietness does nothing but stifle him, nights when all he wants is a recharge before forcing himself up for the next day, but everyone’s tired and grumpy and the silence seems to wedge something between them, something that someone with sadly lacklustre social skills like Dongwoo can’t hope to overcome.

So he stays silent, drowning out the stiffness in the atmosphere with the sound of his own thoughts, until he manages to haul himself into bed, where he’s truly alone at last.

Tonight, it’s a mixture of exhaustion and pain that Dongwoo equates to a numbing nothingness, like he’s switched something off in himself that he doesn’t dare to turn on again. Jinyoung manages to successfully snap at everyone somewhere along the way home, and though Dongwoo knows he’s just exhausted he can’t help but feel a little upset. It doesn’t help that Chansik’s awfully quiet the whole day, and by night time Dongwoo’s worried sick, because Saturday isn’t coming for quite some time and he doubts Chansik would even tell anyone why he’s upset.

All these thoughts buzz in Dongwoo’s mind as he crawls into bed that night, limbs shaky with exhaustion from practice, and after he tugs the blanket haphazardly over his body it’s the routine of forcing his head to shut up so he can sleep.

As someone who doesn’t talk a lot, thinking usually calms him, but on nights like this all his worries do are rile him up, make him lose himself to ridiculous worse-case scenarios, but Dongwoo can’t afford to lose any of the little sleep they have. So he forces his eyes shut, starts counting sheep, pretends he can’t see the widening cracks in the ground around him or feel the fear of imminent failure, knowing that they’ll be hastily painted over in the morning, and tries to sleep.

The lights are off when he hears the ladder creak behind him, and someone clambers onto the mattress, cold fingers brushing against the back of his neck, weight sinking into the mattress behind him. It’s too loud to be Chansik, too soft to be Junghwan, and too cautious to be Jinyoung, so Dongwoo turns around, squinting in the darkness.

“Don’t turn or I’ll fall off,” Dongwoo rolls his eyes when he recognises the voice, but scoots over to the side anyway, feeling hands press into his shoulder for support, legs throwing themselves carelessly over his. Only one person in this group of insane people had the audacity to invade his bed in the middle of the night and be so blunt about it, and though he isn’t a frequent visitor Dongwoo can’t say that he isn’t particularly fond of the times he does come over.

“Can’t have your leg glitching again, now can we?” he mutters, frowning when Sunwoo lifts the blanket and lets the cold air in. Sunwoo laughs, just soft enough so the others don’t hear but loud enough that Dongwoo knows he’s unaffected, and wraps an arm around him, snuggling closer like an insistently cuddly koala.

(And though most would have found it ridiculous because Sunwoo was anything but innocent, Dongwoo finds himself resting his own arm over his, pressing it closer, because he knows and though he can’t claim to understand, he can at least sympathise)

“Speaking of your leg,” Dongwoo turns just a little, so Sunwoo knows he’s serious. “How was it today?”

“What about it today?” Sunwoo asks lightly. And though there’s a careless lilt in his tone, Dongwoo knows it’s fake, it’s constructed, meant to lure him into saying what Sunwoo wants to hear. And though Dongwoo had caught on to what Sunwoo had been doing a long time ago (not like Junghwan, who’d been fooled countless times and still had absolutely no clue) he walks willingly into that trap.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Dongwoo replies in a tone that, while reprimanding, is gentle and patient, the voice that makes Chansik beam when he’s tired and Sandeul laugh for being so motherly, and Sunwoo leans closer, so Dongwoo can feel his forehead touching the back of his neck.

“It was okay,” he says, and Dongwoo can hear the shrug in his voice. He rolls his eyes even though he knows Sunwoo can’t see it.

“It was hurting during dinner. Don’t try to act all strong and silent and deny it, you know you’re the whiniest out of all of us,” Dongwoo’s voice is clipped and sarcastic, but he reaches back to run his hand over his leg, the one he knows is hurting. “I already grew my fair share of white hair when Chansik went through the kidney operation, don’t you start on me too.”

Sunwoo pouts, but Dongwoo doesn’t feel him lean away from his touch. He knows him too well for that.

“I don’t see why you all feel the need to pretend you’re okay when you’re so clearly not,” Dongwoo grumbles, continuing in his slow, movements. “You and Chansik are all the same, why can’t you take a leaf out of Junghwan’s book for once and just tell us how you feel?”

“What’s the fun in that, then?” Sunwoo chuckles, and Dongwoo’s fingers tighten reassuringly around his wrist, because laughing is his defence and Dongwoo wants him to know there’s nothing to defend himself against here.

“You can relax, you know,” he rubs comforting circles along the back of Sunwoo’s hand with his thumb, and Sunwoo snuggles closer, yawning deliberately to tell Dongwoo not to pursue it, and like every other time in Dongwoo’s life, he obeys.

It doesn’t stop him from pulling Sunwoo’s arm closer around him, though.

When Sunwoo’s snores ade the quiet air around them, however, Dongwoo doesn’t let go. It’s funny, he thinks, how the youngest in the group always seem to feel the need to keep their problems to themselves, how it’s the people like Dongwoo who always slip up, who fail because they show who they really are. And while Chansik maintains it by pretending he feels nothing, it’s Sunwoo who always goes a step further, who etches that smile and laughter into his face even if it pains him.

Charismatic Baro, Squirrel Boy Baro, bad boy Baro, are the illusions drawn up by the media, the face painted on by the company, not the Sunwoo clinging onto Dongwoo’s back now. Not the quiet, witty boy, not the fiercely protective older brother, not the messy black-haired boy with crooked teeth and doe eyes that the media hasn’t had the chance to ruin yet.

This is the Sunwoo Dongwoo wants to protect.

Dongwoo rests his head on the pillow once more, this time with a new weight on his shoulders, but the slack arm around him tells him that the burden is shared.

With that thought in mind, Dongwoo closes his eyes and tries to sleep.

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Author's Note:

I haven't done that separation line thingy in a long time.

Okay so this was more of a drabble thing than a real fic :( If you're wondering what happened to Let's Hold Our Breath, it has been eaten by my prelims and will not show its face for a while. Yeah.

I hope this was okay :( I think I'm going through a writer's block, my brain feels like a pile of cow poop :(

please comment i need it :(((

Sincerely
WhiteWings19

baro you little