Hi. So this is my first fic for NCT, and it's been writing itself in my head for weeks.
Just know that this is going to be a long one because I can't stop once I start something. So strap in.
New chapters hopefully at least twice a week (or as often as possible).
Thanks for dropping by. I hope you enjoy.
P.S. I write in British English. Ignore any quirks of language you may disagree with. It's just a British thing.
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"Haechan-ah?"
Blinking owlishly at the bright screen in front of him, Haechan startled slightly at the sound of his roommate's voice. He'd assumed Johnny had fallen asleep hours ago--indeed, a glance at the small clock in the corner of the screen indicated that it was well past 4 am.
"Yes, hyung?" He didn't turn to look at the older man, knowing that he was likely sprawled out on his bed on the opposite side of their moderately sized room, as he had been the last three times he had checked. Johnny didn't often stir in his sleep, which suited Haechan just fine. It meant fewer distractions when playing his video games, and Johnny had long since learned to sleep through any particularly loud explosions and drama happening on screen.
"Why are you still awake?" Johnny asked, his voice gruff and deepened from sleep. "You know that we have a schedule in the morning."
"It's fine, Johnny-hyung," Haechan said dismissively, fingers flying across the keyboard as he scoped out his next kill. "I'll sleep in a minute."
"Haechan!" The bite in Johnny's voice made Haechan pause for a heartbeat, just long enough for his opponent to execute a neat head-shot, then the screen went black. With a sigh, Haechan turned to face his roommate, rubbing his tired eyes with the back of his hands.
"Nice one, hyung. I'm dead now anyway, so I'll sleep." As he watched, an indecipherable mix of emotions crossed Johnny's face and the older man frowned. Haechan didn't like seeing the disapproval in his eyes, especially when it was directed at him. "It's no big deal."
"We've talked about this, Haechan," Johnny muttered, rolling over so that he could sit up in bed. He stretched, arms completing a wide arc that caught Haechan's eye, and leant forward to rest his elbows on his knees, feet planted firmly into the carpet between their beds. "You've been really tired these last few weeks. I covered for you with manager-hyung today, but I know that Taeyong and the choreographers noticed all of your mistakes in practice today. We all did."
"I--" Haechan blinked once, twice, watching Johnny's face for signs of a joke or a lie. Nothing. Just the truth, written plain as if the older man had hung a sign on the wall above his head proclaiming his disapproval. "It's just one day. One mistake. I'll sort it out, I swear."
He knew that he'd been slacking off a bit too much lately, especially with a 127 comeback looming and new choreo and promotions that required his attention. He'd had a few--dozen--late nights playing games, but Johnny had joined him for most of them. It wasn't fair for his roommate to be criticising him, not when Johnny usually spent just as many late nights in the digital world. Although now he thought about it, all of his usual partners had started finding excuses lately. He couldn't quite recall the last time Jaehyun had accepted one of his calls after midnight, and Johnny had been crawling in bed earlier and earlier lately.
"It's not just one mistake, Haechan-ah. Everyone has mentioned it, and I can't keep covering for you. You're not a kid anymore."
Haechan opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out. Thoughts flitted in and out, grasping for his attention, but one thing stuck in the front of his mind.
"You've all talked about me?" He was hurt, and more than a little embarrassed. He knew that he wasn't working quite as hard as he should this comeback, and that he needed to do better, but the idea of his hyungs discussing his failings made his stomach clench painfully.
"We had to, Donghyuck. It affects all of us if you mess up. I'm--" Haechan didn't want to hear anymore. Features hardening, he pushed up from his computer chair quickly and pushed it back forcefully with his foot. It hit his desk with a loud smack, and Johnny blinked in surprise. "Donghyuck?"
"Don't call me that," Haechan snapped, eyes swimming with moisture despite the anger that tried to push up into his chest. Johnny only called him by his real name when he was annoyed or disappointed, and Haechan didn't think he could deal with his hyung telling him any more of the uncomfortable truth that he could see reflected in those deep, all-knowing eyes.
"I get that you're disappointed. I fucked up, okay. I don't need you to keep lecturing me about it. Just go back to sleep." Moving towards the door, heading to the bathroom down the hall, Haechan knew he should stop before he went too far, but he couldn't help the words spewing from his mouth. "I should have known you'd all be talking about me behind my back. I hate being the maknae sometimes. No one appreciates me." Reaching the door, he gripped the handle tightly, turning to glare at Johnny. "Nobody cares about my feelings."
Johnny stared up at him, mouth open in shock, but said nothing as Haechan stormed out of their room and slammed the door behind him.
--
Ten minutes later, contemplating his own reflection in the large mirror above the communal sink, Haechan came to the realisation that he'd made a huge mistake. After calming his pounding heart and splashing his heated face with cold water, he had slowly come back to his senses. Taking a few minutes to think, to assess his behaviour, he knew that he'd been rude and disrespectful.
It wasn't fair that his members had talked about him behind his back, but he shouldn't have taken it out on Johnny. The older man was only telling him this because he was the one unfortunate enough to room with the maknae. It could have just as easily been one of the others.
No one appreciates me. Nobody cares about my feelings.
The words spoken in anger swam through his mind slowly, leaving an unpleasant aftertaste on his tongue. He hadn't meant to say them but, now that they were out in the universe, he realised that there was probably some truth to them. He hadn't realised the full truth of his feelings, but he had been feeling a little ignored by the older members lately. They were all busy with individual schedules, hosting duties and new projects that Haechan wasn't a part of. Which was fine, he swore it was fine. But maybe it wasn't.
"It's not fair," he muttered to himself, watching as a strand of hair slipped free from the rest and fell across his eye. Shoving it aside, he scoffed at his reflection. He wasn't sure what colour his hair was anymore--a faded peach, he'd guess, with the consistency of straw from the constant abuse his stylists put it through. His eyes were dark, rimmed with heavy-set circles indicating his lack of sleep. His complexion was still more golden than the rest of his members, but even the smooth expanse of skin on his arms and face looked sallow and washed out in the harsh artificial lighting above the sink. It almost looked yellow, rather than the golden brown he had always been quietly proud of, and Haechan wondered how he hadn't noticed before. When had he started to look so...
"Miserable." He completed his silent revelation with a single bitter word, spat out into the bathroom. He looked miserable, ill even. He looked like shit, and yet no one except Johnny had said anything. No one had cared enough to ask him if he was okay--ignoring for the moment that this was almost entirely his fault--and Johnny had only spoken up because he'd been woken up in the middle of the night. It was an immature thought process, he knew, but it was true.
Maybe, Haechan mused, as he continued to watch the tiny, involuntary twitch of his left cheek muscle as he hunched over in front of the mirror, they really just didn't care anymore. Didn't care about him, unless he was messing things up for them. Making mistakes that would harm the whole team, and not just him.
Nobody cares about my feelings.
With that sobering thought resurfacing, Haechan pushed up off the sink and quickly finished his night-time routine. He almost didn't bother, wondering if it was even worth it to look after a body that looked ready to fall apart at any moment, but eventually forced himself to wash his face and brush his teeth. Tonight, that would have to do. After all, no one would notice if he skipped a few steps. No one looked that closely unless he was on stage, and that wouldn't be for a few weeks yet.
Heading back towards the room he shared with Johnny, Haechan wondered if he should maybe apologise for the words he had spoken in anger, whether it would help to smooth over some of the awkwardness that would likely linger for a few days until Johnny forgave him, but decided not to bother. If Johnny wanted to talk, he could initiate the conversation and then Haechan would consider apologising. It would be a good test of whether the older man actually cared, or if this was all just about him ruining the dance practice for everyone else today.
No. He'd leave it. Let the other man make the first move.
"Hyuck?" Almost to his bedroom door, Haechan froze. Not now. Not him. Anyone but him!
Turning around slowly, Haechan met Mark's eyes. He was wearing his glasses, squinting in an adorable way that made the younger boy's heart squeeze in a way that almost lessened the turmoil inside. A small, sleepy smile spread across Mark's lips as he blinked rapidly, working hard to focus on Haechan's face.
"Mark." His name muttered softly was all Haechan could manage at the moment, but Mark didn't seem to mind. His smile grew, even as his eyelids drooped lower and he swayed on his feet. Mark must be heading for the bathroom, he realised quickly, and the other boy was probably still half asleep. It was, after all, still the middle of the night.
"You okay?"
Was he okay? That was a really good question. One that he really shouldn't get into with this particular sleepy boy, especially not tonight. Especially not when he was this raw, this vulnerable.
"I'm fine, Mark." If Haechan's voice came out a little harsh, even to his own ears, he didn't mean it. Not with Mark. Never with Mark.
"It's Mark hyung," the older boy muttered with a chuckle, shuffling over to push open the door to the bathroom Haechan had just vacated. "Okay. Goodnight, Hyuck." With that, he was gone and the door was slammed in his face. Well not really slammed, but that's how it felt in the pit of his stomach. With a gentle click of the lock, Mark had dismissed him and Haechan was alone in the hallway again.
Nobody cares about me.
Haechan didn't want to think that way about Mark. Mark was the one person in his life who didn't ever seem to treat him like a burden. The one who made him feel better when the rest of the world felt like it truly didn't care, yet here they were. Even Mark didn't care enough to see through the tired circles under his eyes to the real issue--whatever that real issue was. Haechan hadn't quite figured that part out yet.
With a sigh, Haechan pushed open his bedroom door and slipped inside. Johnny was now on his front, face buried deep in his pillow. Haechan closed the door quietly, so as not to disturb him. Tonight was not the time to discuss all the things swirling inside him, threatening to burst out and overflow. No. Tomorrow would be a new day, and he would deal with all of this then.
Curling up in his sheets, Haechan pulled the pillow down into his chest, wrapping his arms around it--and around himself. He let out a long, shaky breath and pressed his face into the soft material, curling in around himself like he could fold himself inside the pillow's warmth. He squeezed his eyes tightly closed, pulling his lower lip between his teeth and biting down firmly enough that it would leave an indent.
It's not just one mistake, Haechan-ah. You're not a kid anymore.
Johnny's words swept him to sleep, even as a single, salty tear rolled down his face and soaked into the sheet beneath his head.
Nobody cares.
--
"Hyuck-ah!" He woke up with a start, as if he'd been shocked by stray electricity from a faulty outlet. Arcing up off his pillow, his vision swam as he moved too quickly. Pressing his eyelids closed tightly, he fisted his fingers into his sheets, which were cool and coarse to the touch. So unlike the ones on his bed in the dorm.
With a frown, Haechan blinked a few times, a blur of faded colours and shapes swimming in his vision. When, after a few moments, they didn't manifest into anything solid, he sighed and rolled to the side, reaching for the shared nightstand between his bed and Johnny's.
Where there should have been wood and a pair of slim wire-framed glasses, Haechan's hand met only cold air and then he was falling. The edge of the bed fell away, closer to him than should have been possible, and then he was slamming into the wooden floor with a yelp of surprise and pain. His fingers scrabbled to make purchase against the smooth, polished surface, and he froze.
The bedroom he shared in their dorm had a carpeted floor. In fact, none of the rooms in their apartment had hard floors, save for the bathroom and kitchen, and he was pretty sure from the muted brown filling his gaze and the rough grain against his palms that he hadn't fallen asleep in the tiled bathroom again--that had only happened once.
"Donghyuck!" That voice again, calling from somewhere below him. It was high, feminine and entirely unfamiliar, yet that was his name. Once he rarely used anymore, save for when his members forgot themselves, but still. To hear it from a stranger, in a room he was pretty sure he didn't recognise, was a recipe for a really bad morning. "If you don't get up now, you're going to be late for school."
Excuse me. He was going to be late for what now...?
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I hope you enjoyed. Critique and suggestions are always welcome in the comments and in my inbox.
Have a wonderful day! :)