Group: B.A.P
Ship: BangLo (Yongguk × Zelo/Junhong)
Word Count: 6,171 (oof)
Notes: Plenty of side DaeJae (Daehyun × Youngjae), a little soft, ANGSTY AS HELL, slight cursing
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IT WAS A LONG DAY.
Hours in the recording studio, then in the dance studio, developing new music and choreography to go with said music, then attempting to teach said choreography to his band members, all to prepare for their rapidly approaching comeback...
It was a long day. And Junhong was very tired.
So when Yongguk eventually decided that they had done enough for the day, wrapping up with a "great work, guys, see you tomorrow!" Junhong didn't hesitate to fall onto the floor. Laying on his back, he paused for a second to run his hand through his hair, then allowed for his long limbs to stretch out, feeling his back sink in to the ground, his muscles ache as they finally relaxed.
"Bro," a voice called. Junhong raised his head, seeing Jongup leaning in the doorway. "You coming?"
Junhong shook his head. "Don't wait up for me, I'm gonna be here for a while. Make sure not to finish all the food, though."
"I'm just making sure we get our money's worth!" Jongup argued.
"Whatever," Junhong laughed. Down the hall, he heard a distant voice calling for Jongup. "You should go. Himchan's gonna get annoying if you don't join them now."
"Himchan's annoying already," Jongup rolled his eyes, but he did so with a bright smile. "Come home soon, okay?"
"Yes, mom," Junhong jokes, and Jongup's smile drops. "I'm serious. You haven't been resting well lately, and you need it now more than ever. Is it because of--"
"It's not that." It is. "I can handle it, don't worry."
"Well, just know that if you need anything, I'm here." A pause. "You're already hurting emotionally-- I'd hate for something physical to happen as a result."
"I'm fine, but thanks for the offer."
"No problem." Jongup rises from his position, and turns away. "See you later, bro."
"Bye, hyung," Junhong replies as his bandmate retreats down the hall.
The door shuts with a click. Junhong sighs, rising from the ground, shaking out his body. Pulling out his phone from his back pocket, he unlocks it, connects it to the speaker, hits "shuffle all songs," closes his eyes, and waits.
When the first song plays, he simply nods his head to the beat. During the second song, his body moves with parts of the rhythm. By the third song, he's in full dance.
His movements are smooth but jagged, sharp but gentle. He dances without taking any sort of rest, fluidly transitioning from one song to the next without breaking his movements. He dances without rhyme or reason, not having any sort of vision in his mind. He dances to relax from the days that have passed, but to think about the days to come. He dances to remember. He dances to forget.
And then, at the sound of a very familiar intro, he stops.
The notes, the chords-- they're not familiar to Junhong because of the fact that it's their song, but because it's their song. He remembers the hours of late-night songwriting sessions, of whispered jokes and quiet laughs and silent smiles as they'd tested each others' limits, seeing if it would work, if they would work.
But among the grins and laughs, he remembers the distant looks and strained smiles-- little cracks, ignorable at first, that grew to massive fractures that caused everything to come crashing down, no matter how hard they tried to fix them.
