Chapter Text
Wu Fan is rather upset about the change of his public image lately. Kris the aloof yet urbane persona he’s painstakingly crafted since debut is crumpling, deteriorating gradually but decidedly into that of a goofy giant who draws like Picasso’s Guernica was in trend, earning him humiliatingly cuddly and disgustingly adorkable nicknames. Curse Zi Tao, who doesn’t seem to understand that there are things on the Internet that best remain online. At his diplomatic reminder, the kid just shot him an incredulous look, Ge, you were looking rather pleased last time when you saw the keychains they made after your kindergarten drawings.
His cheeks turn pink and his left eye twitches at the memories. Zi Tao has always been rather blunt around close friends, but right now the older man couldn’t help feeling as though this was another inevitable result of his diminishing coolness. He’s so confused, he just doesn’t understand. Shiwon hyung is eccentric too, people laugh at his antics in game shows all the time, and yet he still somehow maintain a rather suave image. What has Wu Fan done wrong? Was it the drawings? Too artistic? Or that one time he didn’t deign to dress up for the airport? Too casual? God, what if Wu Fan would turn into the oddball of the group like Yesung? (not that it’s a bad thing but that is just NOT him.)
His stomach drops at the thought of it. Yixing, being attentive at unexpected intervals, turns his concerned gaze towards him. “You’re alright?”
Wu Fan almost lets it loose at his friend’s soft and soothing Mandarin, but he clams up when Minseok and Luhan both look up from a spread that looks dubiously like a porn magazine.
"I’m… fine. Just need some… sleep." He beats a hasty retreat to his room before anyone can respond. No, he’s not gonna have a melt down in front of them.
Jongdae takes a look at his face upon his entrance and wordlessly gathers his laptop up, knowing his roommate is going to need his solitude for a while.
"I have some extra in my top drawer," the vocalist says solemnly, to which Wu Fan gives a grateful nod. The door closes with a quiet click behind him.
Wu Fan opens his closet and take out a bubble wrap, two third of it was already popped open, but there is still the extra Jongdae keeps in his drawer.
Breathing deeply, Wu Fan channels his Zen mode and starts to pop his troubles away, one bubble at a time.