"Jeon.J, are you okay? You're late today…"
As soon as Kim Joon saw Jeon.J enter the practice room, he stood up, his tone gentle yet filled with concern.
"Didn't wake up on time? I don't know what's going on with you, but never mind—let's start. The concert date is getting close, and we really need to work hard."
Jeon.J didn't answer. Without looking at anyone, he walked in quietly, placed his bag on the side table, took out his phone charger, and plugged it in near the wall.
The whole room fell into silence.
Everyone's eyes followed him — confusion, concern, and a little fear reflected in all of them.
Something wasn't right today.
His movements felt heavier than usual. The calm fire that always burned in him seemed dimmed. There was something missing—something deep and unexplainable.
Suddenly, Hosu stood up from his place and came directly in front of him. He looked straight at Jeon.J, trying to read what was wrong. For a moment, Jeon.J froze. Then, without meeting his eyes, he stepped forward to the center of the room.
"I'm fine," he said quietly. "Let's start practice."
His voice was steady but weak, like someone forcing themselves to sound okay.
The others exchanged uncertain looks, then silently took their positions. The music started.
But the rhythm didn't flow like it used to.
Every move that Jeon.J performed today felt forced, rough, and heavy. He wasn't dancing — he was fighting himself.
Usually, he was the one correcting others, smiling between steps, energizing the whole room.
But today, his energy was gone. It was as if his body was moving just to escape what his mind was feeling.
Yomin noticed first.
Then Hosu did.
Something was definitely wrong.
Yet, nobody spoke. They respected his space. Maybe he was stressed, maybe tired, maybe something else.
But before anyone could decide, Jeon.J suddenly stopped moving.
His knees bent slightly, and he sank to the floor.
He lay down on his back, one arm over his eyes.
"Jeon!" Kim Joon rushed forward.
The others followed.
But Jeon didn't respond. His chest moved fast, like he was trying not to cry.
Then Yomin noticed something — a drop of water sliding from the corner of his eyes. Not sweat. Tears.
He bent down, gently trying to remove Jeon's hand from his face.
But Jeon held it tightly in place, refusing to let anyone see him like that.
He wasn't just tired — he was breaking.
The team slowly sat down around him on the floor.
No one spoke.
It was strange… something they hadn't seen in years.
Back in their early struggle days, tears were common. When dreams felt too far, and success was just another promise.
But back then, they always had a reason — exhaustion, failure, pressure.
Today, it wasn't any of that.
Today, Jeon.J's silence carried a pain none of them understood.
Teahun finally whispered,
"This… hasn't happened in a long time. We cried before, yes. But then, we lifted each other up. He was always the one who stood first, who never lost hope. But now…"
The sentence hung unfinished in the air.
Kim Joon took a deep breath.
"Let him cry," he said softly. "It's good to let the storm out sometimes."
And they did.
They stayed quiet, watching him release what he had kept buried for so long.
Minutes passed.
Finally, his breathing slowed. His hand slipped from his eyes.
His face looked pale, but calm — like someone who had just emptied his soul.
Kim Joon reached out and gently helped him up.
Without saying a word, Jeon.J stood, took a deep breath, and walked to the wall.
He sat down with his back against it, eyes closed, hands resting on his knees.
No one moved.
They were waiting — waiting for him to speak.
But before he could, the door opened.
Jea walked in.
"Jeon.J." His tone was steady, but his eyes said otherwise.
Jeon slowly lifted his head, their eyes meeting in a moment heavy with silence.
"I tried finding out about the seat number," Jea said quietly. "Since your seat was seven rows ahead of mine—around seat 28A, I think—I counted. I already made a call. We'll know soon."
Everyone turned their attention to the two of them.
There was something strange about this conversation — no one could tell what it was about, yet they could feel it.
Their eyes — both of them — looked empty.
Like something had been taken from them that words couldn't bring back.
Jeon had been pretending earlier — pretending that nothing was wrong, that everything was normal.
But Jea… Jea wasn't pretending. His guilt was visible in every glance.
No one else knew the truth — that Jea had been blaming himself all this time.
That he had been carrying the guilt of not handling things in time, of letting Jeon face the pressure alone.
That flight… that seat number… that one decision that haunted both of them silently.
And now, that silence stood between them again — heavy, wordless, suffocating.
The rest of the members didn't dare interrupt. They could only watch as the two of them faced something unspoken, something private, something that had cracked the core of their bond.
Jeon closed his eyes again, leaning his head against the wall.
The tension on his face softened — not because he was fine, but because he was tired of pretending.
And in that quiet, even without words, everyone in the room understood one thing:
Sometimes, it's not the performance that breaks you.
It's the pain you carry when no one's looking.
---
"Are you two going to tell us what's going on or not?"
Minjo suddenly broke the silence, his voice sharper than usual.
The room froze for a second.
Jeon.J, still seated by the wall, raised his eyes slowly, then gestured for Jea to leave. Jea nodded quietly and walked out of the room without looking back.
As soon as the door closed, Jeon rested his head again against the wall and stared at the ceiling blankly.
His silence filled the space heavier than words could.
Kim Joon crouched near him.
"Jeon… should I go with you today? Maybe I, or someone else, could come home with you?"
No reply.
"Why aren't you saying anything?" Minjo's patience snapped. He was never the type to get angry easily, but today, everything seemed to be pushing him toward frustration.
Kim Joon raised his hand, motioning Minjo to calm down.
"It's fine. Let him breathe." Then he turned to Jeon again.
"Okay, listen. You'll come with me today, alright?"
Before Jeon could respond, Hosu added,
"I'll come too."
And then Teahun said quickly,
"Count me in."
Kim Joon glanced at both of them, his expression saying exactly what he didn't — You two don't seem like you just want to check on him.
Still, he nodded.
"Fine. I'll get the car ready. No more practice today."
But before he could stand, Jeon suddenly spoke.
His voice was steady again.
"No. We'll practice."
Everyone turned toward him, surprised. His face was pale, eyes tired, but his determination was back.
"Are you sure?" Jinhun asked softly, still worried.
Jeon gave a faint nod.
"Yeah. Please… stop asking if I'm fine. I am. Just… let's not talk about it."
And that was that.
---
Later That Evening — Kim Joon's Apartment
By evening, Jeon.J, Teahun, and Hosu were all at Kim Joon's place.
The air outside was cold enough to make their breaths visible, but inside, the apartment was cozy — lights warm, faint smells of detergent and spice filling the air.
Jeon lay stretched across the living room sofa, one arm covering his face.
The others were in the kitchen, talking and laughing as they prepared dinner.
They had ordered a few things, but Teahun insisted on making chicken soup himself.
"Instant food is an insult in winter," he declared like a chef giving a TED talk.
The smell of chicken and ginger drifted into the hall.
Jeon listened to the chatter from the kitchen but didn't move. The ordinary noise — clinking spoons, laughter, teasing — felt like medicine.
Then, the doorbell rang.
"I'll get it," Hosu said, heading toward the door.
Jeon didn't even flinch.
But as soon as the door opened, chaos erupted.
"Yah! You guys really are here!"
It wasn't a delivery. It was Jinhun, Yomin, and Minjo — all grinning like kids sneaking into a secret party.
"You all came together?" Hosu asked, half surprised, half amused.
"Yeah," Jinhun said. "The dorm felt too quiet. Couldn't stay there, so… here we are."
Kim Joon walked out from the kitchen, smiling.
"Perfect timing. We were just about to eat."
Minjo immediately clapped his hands.
"Great! I'll help!"
"Perfect," Teahun shouted from the kitchen.
"Start by washing these bowls. I'm about to serve the soup — and you know how serious I am about presentation!"
Minjo looked shocked.
"What? Me?"
Teahun grinned.
"Yes, you. I left them for you on purpose. That's called teamwork."
"Oh really?" Minjo said, raising a brow.
"And if I didn't come today?"
"Then I would've called you to come."
Minjo crossed his arms.
"And if I didn't pick up?"
Teahun laughed.
"Then I'd send the bowls to your house!"
Minjo gasped.
"You've gone crazy! You'd send dirty bowls to my house?"
Teahun shrugged.
"Of course. You can't escape your duty."
"And if I didn't open the door?" Minjo asked.
Teahun smiled.
"Then I'd ask Jeon.J to wash them for me."
Minjo's mouth dropped open.
"You'd make Jeon wash bowls? You've really lost your mind!"
Teahun laughed.
"What's worse — me asking Jeon to wash bowls or you making me call you just to wash one?"
Minjo rolled his eyes.
"You'd seriously call me just for that?"
Teahun nodded proudly.
"I already did once."
Minjo blinked.
"Wait—what?!"
"Oh yeah," Teahun said, "remember the day I called you because of my frying pan?"
Minjo groaned.
"Don't remind me!"
Kim Joon asked, laughing,
"What happened?"
Minjo threw his hands up.
"He called me and told me to come to his place to take the pan. When I got there—it was sitting in the sink!"
Teahun laughed loudly.
"You're forgetting the best part!"
Minjo gave him a look.
"Oh, you mean when you and Hosu started teaching me how to wash it like teachers? I thought you were just explaining it!"
Everyone turned to him, interested.
Minjo stood and acted it out.
"I was nodding, thinking, 'Okay, okay, rinse it like this.' But two minutes later, I was actually washing that same pan while they stood beside me like judges!"
Hosu laughed so hard he almost dropped a spoon.
"You looked so serious! Like you were joining a dishwashing contest!"
Minjo pointed at him, grinning.
"Exactly! And Jeon was the worst! He just stood there, arms crossed, saying, 'You missed a spot.' I swear, I felt like my soul left my body that day!"
Everyone laughed, even Jeon — this time really laughing.
The heaviness from earlier melted, just for a moment.
Teahun wiped his eyes, still laughing.
"See? That's why you're the official bowl washer now. You've got experience!"
Minjo picked up the sponge.
"Fine! But if you don't praise my work, I'll give your soup a bad review!"
Teahun gasped.
"You wouldn't dare!"
"Watch me," Minjo said.
"One more word, and your soup will taste like soap!"
The kitchen filled with laughter again — loud, happy, real.
Even Jeon couldn't stop smiling.
For a few minutes, it didn't feel like they were stars or trainees — just friends, laughing together.
The soup simmered gently, the laughter continued, and outside, soft rain began to fall — washing away the heaviness of the day, one drop at a time.
For tonight, that was enough.
The share house in Busan
The share house in Busan was unusually quiet.
Everyone was busy with their studies — first-term exams were close, and each of them still had a huge portion of the syllabus left. In these last five days, nights were usually dedicated to studying.
Hana, Ruhi, and Zoya came home from their part-time jobs after university, then started revising.
From the outside, it looked like all of them were fine — calm, focused, peaceful.
But inside each of them, a different fight was happening quietly.
Zoya and Minji had already cleared the misunderstanding between them. If someone saw them now, they'd think everything was perfectly normal.
A book was open in front of Zoya…
but she wasn't studying.
She sat near the bedside window, staring out at the cold night sky of Busan.
Minji's words kept circling in her mind, refusing to leave.
And then—
A voice rose inside her.
Her own reflection, her own shadow — the version of Zoya that asked the questions she didn't want to face.
"What are you thinking?"
"Nothing. Just… Minji. What she said…"
"You're not able to think straight, right?
Is it really that easy… to give someone to someone else?
To imagine him with her?"
Zoya's chest tightened.
"She looks good with him."
I know but...
"And you?
Are you… not good enough?"
Zoya swallowed hard.
"She's pretty."
(soft, cutting):
"And you're not?"
Zoya shook her head slowly.
"No… I accept she's pretty.
But still… still I can't imagine her with him."
The inner image smirked sadly.
"Why? She knows him personally.
They speak the same language.
Same country.
No barriers.
She can explain her heart to him easily.
They understand each other deeply."
Her voice grew smaller — but more honest.
"They could become the world's dream couple.
Perfect. Natural. Beautiful.
Isn't that true?"
Zoya lowered her eyes.
But suddenly… a tiny sad smile appeared.
Her inner self leaned closer.
That's a maybe point....
"What do you mean?"
Zoya's voice trembled — but she continued:
"They could become the world's dream couple…
But I…
I pray for him for his peace, for his inside light, for his success of soul.."
A tear slipped down her cheek.
The share house stayed silent around her.
Zoya whispered the first word of her dua.
(Oh Lord…)
Zoya (softly praying):
"Ya Rabb (Oh Lord)…"
— At that same moment, in Kim Joon's apartment —
Jeon.J sat on the sofa, staring at nothing.
The laughter of his members echoed far away from him, like he wasn't fully present.
His chest felt tight, his breathing uneven, but he kept pretending.
His fingers curled around the glass.
Zoya (whispering):
"Grant peace to the hearts… that are fighting silently."
He closed his eyes for a second.
His jaw tensed.
A storm pressed inside him, but he hid it behind a steady expression.
He took a slow sip from his glass — not for taste, but to distract his shaking heart.
Zoya:
"Ease the pain… they can't put into words."
He lowered the glass slightly.
His eyes softened, as if the words he couldn't speak were choking him.
He stared at his reflection in the dark TV screen — and didn't recognize himself.
Zoya:
"Wipe the tears… they hide from the world."
His vision blurred.
He blinked quickly, pretending it was the light.
A single tear formed — he wiped it with the back of his hand before anyone saw.
But his heart… it was breaking quietly.
Zoya:
"Give them strength… Ya Allah…
to breathe again."
He leaned back, exhaled —
a long, shaky breath,
the kind that comes from holding too much inside.
The members kept talking, unaware of his silent collapse.
Zoya:
"Guide their hearts…
to whatever You have written."
He lifted the glass again.
But this time—
His hand stopped halfway.
His fingers loosened.
His heart whispered something he couldn't name.
Slowly… silently…
He placed the glass down.
Not drinking again.
Not pretending anymore.
Just breathing.
Just surviving.
Zoya opened her eyes gently… her heart calmer, softer.
Zoya (final whisper):
"Ameen…
For him."
At that same moment—
Jeon.J's glass touched the table… and stayed there.
As if her dua had reached him
across the city,
across the silence,
across the pain.
He felt calm, peace inside him.
Zoya at the window to Jeon.J in the apartment, the city lights dim around him, a single tear catching the warm indoor light as he exhales and finally lets himself relax.
To be Continue....
Regards
ZK💌