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Jungwon hadn’t felt like himself in weeks.
He smiled, nodded, danced, led. Rehearsed for hours on end. Corrected posture. Encouraged Ni-ki when he fumbled choreography. Praised Sunoo’s falsetto. Took every note from staff with a bow and a quiet, “Understood.” And then went back to training, alone, when the others went to sleep.
But inside, it was chaos. Exhaustion didn’t even begin to describe it anymore. His body hurt in ways that no stretch or massage could fix. It was deeper than muscles. It lived in his chest, in his spine, in the pressure behind his eyes that never left.
He felt hollow. Like no matter how much he did, it wasn’t enough.
Three months of nonstop preparation for Coachella, every waking second devoted to a stage that people all over the world would be watching. Engene's expected perfection. Managers expected more than that.
But all Jungwon could see were the cracks.
The way his vocal tone never sounded as crisp as Heeseung’s. The way his movements, while sharp, never had the flair Ni-ki’s had. The way fans debated whether his blonde hair washed him out. The way he over-smiled during interviews- too eager to please. Too much.
He wasn’t stupid. He read the forums. Saw the comments.
He knew.
And still, he pushed. Every day. Because he was the leader. Because he had to. Because if he didn’t, who would?
But tonight, as the others filed out of the practice room with tired but satisfied smiles, Jungwon stayed behind. Not because he had anything left to give, but because he was scared of stopping.
Because the moment he stopped moving, his thoughts got louder.
And that scared him more than exhaustion ever could.
“Let’s call it a night,” Heeseung had said, shooting a look at Jungwon.
But Jungwon stayed behind.
“Just a bit more,” he’d insisted, and the others, worried but respecting his stubbornness, left him be.
Jungwon didn’t want them to see how tired he truly was. How the last three months had felt like a slow descent into something tight and breathless. Every day had been Coachella, Coachella, Coachella. And tomorrow it would finally happen.
But he didn’t feel ready.
His limbs were heavy, weighed down by hours of movement and months of pressure. The anxiety, constant and gnawing, wrapped itself around his chest like a vice. He hated it.
His shirt clung to his back, soaked in sweat. Legs shaking. His water bottle was nearly empty.
Still, he stayed, danced.
Only when the mirror blurred and his feet stumbled did he stop. Nearly two hours later. His breathing was shallow, and he felt dizzy. Shower. He needed a shower. Maybe that would help. Maybe that would quiet the storm in his head.
------
Clean, in a loose t-shirt and soft pajama pants, Jungwon trudged back to his hotel room. He was ready to collapse. The nerves tomorrow would bring could wait. He just wanted to lie down and watch some Youtube. Or try to please his fans and interact a bit with Engene's on Weverse before sleeping.
He was just about to reach into his bag.
Then he noticed.
His phone was gone.
His chest constricted. He checked the bag again. And again.
Nothing.
No. No no no.
His phone was everything- his planner, his notes, his vocal guides, his only connection to the world beyond these walls. His only way to know what Engene thought of him. How on earth would he get to know everybody's reaction to his performance tomorrow?
His hands trembled as he rushed back to the studio, but the phone wasn’t there either.
His vision blurred. He was too exhausted for this. He wanted to scream, or punch something. His body wasn’t listening to him anymore, and now this?
His brain desperately scrambled for answers, and then he remembered: The meeting. This morning. In Sunghoon’s hotel-room.
Please be there.
He nearly ran down the hall, punched in the older's passcode with shaky fingers, and the lock clicked open quietly.
Please be there.
The room was dim, quiet. His plan was to slip in and out unnoticed. But as soon as he stepped in, a pair of eyes landed on him.
Sunghoon. Awake.
They locked eyes for a second.
Jungwon’s gaze darted away, immediately scanning the room, until he saw it. His phone. On the shelf in front of the TV. A surge of emotion hit him like a wave. His body moved on its own.
He stumbled forward, clutching the device like it was air. But then his legs gave out under him.
His knees hit the floor faster than he could process the tears of relief on his face. His phone was clutched in one hand, his chest heaving like his heart was trying to claw its way out. His breath caught in his throat.
He didn’t even know why tears were streaming down his face. Not really.
It was just everything. The stress. The physical exhaustion.
It wasn’t about the phone. It was never about the phone.
It was about how he felt. About how he was holding the whole world together with trembling hands and feet.
Jungwon curled in on himself, silent sobs shaking his frame. His skin felt cold. His mind wouldn’t stop. He was humiliated. What if Sunghoon laughed? What if he saw this and thought he was weak? Was he going to tell the other members?
“Jungwon are you crying?”
Calm voice. Gentle. Not mocking.
But Jungwon didn’t answer. His body shivered and he couldn’t lift his head. Couldn’t look at him.
"Jungwonie?"
He felt a presence beside him. An arm rubbing his back softly. A grounding weight, pulling him out of the spiral.
“Hey. You’re okay. I got you.”
The kindness in Sunghoon’s voice cracked something even deeper inside him.
“Come on,” Sunghoon said softly after a moment. He helped him up, guiding him wordlessly to the bed. Jungwon didn’t resist.
They sat on the edge of the bed. Sunghoon wiped the younger’s cheeks with his thumbs. His eyes searched Jungwon’s face.
“I'm sorry about your phone, I should've told you it was here earlier. I was planning on giving it to you tomorrow. You okay?”
“I… I don’t know, it's..” Jungwon whispered. His voice was wrecked. His shoulders slumped, and he buried his face in his hands.
"I've just been feeling unwell."
Jungwon's clothes clung to his skin, still slightly damp from his earlier shower. His hands were clenched. Silent tears tracked down his cheeks, glistening under the low light. He didn’t bother wiping them.
Sunghoon sat beside him, close but quiet, watching him from the corner of his eye.
Without saying anything, Sunghoon lifted one arm and slowly wrapped it around Jungwon’s shoulders. His hand rested gently on the younger’s upper arm, thumb moving in small, reassuring circles.
That small gesture undid him.
“I’m tired,” Jungwon whispered hoarsely, his voice catching in his throat. “Not just physically. Everything’s just… too much.”
Sunghoon didn’t speak, just gently rubbed his hand up and down Jungwon’s arm, waiting.
“I keep thinking I’m gonna mess everything up,” Jungwon continued, barely above a whisper. “That I’ll mess it up. That people will hate how I look and how I sound. That I’ll ruin this for all of us tomorrow.”
Sunghoon turned his head toward him, brows furrowed. He opened his mouth, but the words didn’t come fast enough, because Jungwon was already moving.
Jungwon let out a breath that sounded too close to a sob.
“I’m scared of tomorrow,” he admitted, finally letting it spill. “I’m scared that I’ll fail in front of everyone. That people will see me and think I don’t belong there. That I was never supposed to be the leader. That it was a mistake.”
The silence that followed was thick.
Jungwon’s eyes brimmed again, and he looked down at his hands, helpless, defeated. “And I hate that I think like this. I’m just so tired of trying to prove myself. Who am I even doing this for?”
Then he turned his head carefully, not sure what expression would be painted on the older boy's face, and looked up at him.
Not with wide eyes or anything dramatic. Just a quiet, exhausted look. Careful. Raw. Like he was searching Sunghoon’s face for a reason to fall apart.
Sunghoon met his gaze and felt something sting deep in his chest. The sight of Jungwon like that, small and unraveling and scared, made his throat tighten. He had never seen Jungwon like this.
Sunghoon pulled him closer.
His hand slowly stroked the back of Jungwon’s head, fingers carding gently through the damp strands of hair, while the other's head was leaned against his shoulder.
It came so naturally.
He’d never seen Jungwon like this. Never seen him cry, or collapse, or unravel. Jungwon was always the strong one. Always smiling. Always leading.
“You’re okay,” he murmured again. “You’re safe here. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
Jungwon let out a shaky breath and leaned closer, until his hair brushed against Sunghoon’s jaw. His fingers clung to the front of Sunghoon’s hoodie.
Sunghoon didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his other arm tightly around him and held him close, both hands now moving slowly, one rubbing over his back, the other cradling the back of his head, his fingers threading gently through his hair.
“I’m scared,” Jungwon whispered, voice muffled.
Sunghoon let his cheek rest against the top of his shoulder, whispering back:
“I know. I’ve got you.”
Jungwon’s breath stuttered. Then again.
“I wish I was someone else.”
It was said quietly. No drama. No need for shock value. Just a quiet, tired truth.
Sunghoon froze, arms still around him, heart sinking instantly. But he didn’t speak. He let the younger go on.
“I hate how I look,” Jungwon whispered, words barely holding together. “Every time I see photos or videos, I just pick myself apart. My smile is too wide. My eyes disappear. My face looks bloated, or weird, or… wrong.”
Sunghoon’s hands stilled in his hair.
“I hate how I sound. My voice-” Jungwon’s voice cracked- “it never comes out the way I want it to. When I sing, I always wonder if people are just being polite when they compliment me. I don’t think I’ve ever listened to myself without cringing.”
Sunghoon swallowed hard, his chest aching with every word.
“And I know how stupid it sounds, but I think people hate my blonde hair,” Jungwon muttered. “Like I made the wrong choice and now everyone thinks I’m trying too hard or something. I scroll through comments sometimes. And it just- it messes me up.”
Jungwon pulled in a shaky breath, voice growing smaller. “And Coachella… it’s so big. Too big. The fans, the cameras, the expectations, everyone’s watching. And I feel like I’m going to ruin it. That I’ll mess up the choreo or sing off-key or trip or freeze or-” he cut himself off with a broken inhale.
He paused, trembling again. Tears daring to spill again.
“And the worst part is… I’m trying so hard. I practice until I feel sick. I don’t complain. I push through everything. But it never feels like enough. I look at the other members and think, they’re everything I’m not. I feel like I’m just pretending. Like eventually, someone’s going to figure out I shouldn’t be here.”
Sunghoon hadn’t said a word. His grip only tightened.
Jungwon’s voice thinned out to a whisper. “And I don’t know how much longer I can keep acting like I’m fine.”
Silence stretched between them. Not empty.
Full of everything Jungwon never let anyone see.
The younger's body started shaking again.
Then Sunghoon moved. He leaned back just enough to look down at the boy in his arms. His hand came up, cupping the side of Jungwon’s face, his thumb brushing gently over the tear tracks on his cheek.
His voice was low. Firm. But soft enough to hold him.
“Jungwonie,” he said, “you don’t have to act with me. Not tonight. Not ever.”
He let his forehead rest against Jungwon’s for a second, steadying them both.
“I’m not going to tell you that you’re wrong for feeling this way,” he continued. “But I will tell you this- you are not a mistake. You’re not less. You’re not replaceable. You’re you. And that’s exactly what makes you unforgettable. You don’t know how incredible you are, do you?”
Jungwon blinked, tears clinging to his lashes. Sunghoon moved back again, resting his arms on Jungwon's shoulders.
“Your smile?” Sunghoon said. “It’s the best part of my day. You don’t fake it. It’s real. You light up every room you enter.”
He let his fingers run through Jungwon’s hair again. “This? Gorgeous. I thought you looked like an angel the first time I saw you. I 've thought about how someone can look so good with this haircolor.”
Jungwon’s breath hitched. But he didn’t pull away.
“You’ve always been the strongest leader. You stand up for us, even when no one sees it. You make us feel safe. I admire that. I need that.”
Jungwon closed his eyes.
“And your dancing? I’ve thought you were amazing since I-Land. I still do. Honestly…” Sunghoon smirked. “I like your dancing more than Ni-ki’s. Don’t tell him.”
A silent smile crept on Jungwon's face.
Sunghoon’s voice dropped, softer.
“You don’t need to change anything about yourself. Your talent, your energy, you’re already perfect. And your voice? It’s one of my favorite things in the world. You always sound like you mean every word.”
He looked into Jungwon’s teary eyes.
“Coachella isn’t about proving anything. It’s about celebrating how far we’ve come. You’ve worked so hard, Jungwon. You’ve already done it.”
A pause. And then, warmly:
“You’re so, so special. People will see that tomorrow. I promise. Don’t let your thoughts lie to you.”
Jungwon didn’t say anything. But he leaned into the touch again. Wrapping his hands around the older's body. Letting himself be held. Letting himself feel loved, for once.
Sunghoon kept petting his hair gently.
And slowly, Jungwon’s breathing deepened. His head grew heavier on Sunghoon’s shoulder. His eyes getting heavier with every gentle touch he felt on his back. With every breath he took.
And soon before he noticed, he fell asleep.
Sunghoon looked down at the boy curled up in his arms. So small. So brave. So tired.
He pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head. Carefully laid him down, making sure not to wake up the younger, and pulled the covers over him.
“Sleep well, Jungwonie.”
--------
The air behind the stage buzzed with electricity.
Cheers from the crowd rumbled through the ground, thunderous and alive. Enhypen stood in a line, waiting for their cue. But all Jungwon could hear was the pounding of his own heartbeat.
Jake adjusted his mic. Ni-ki did warm-ups. Sunoo and Jay were joking around. Heeseung practiced a vocal run under his breath.
Jungwon stood to the side. Pale. His hands were shaking again. Thoughts creeping in like shadows.
Too fast.
His lungs refused to fill. The lights were too bright. The air too hot.
His vision blurred slightly as he looked down at his trembling hands. His body buzzed, tight and coiled, and for a terrifying second, he thought he was going to pass out.
Not now. Not here.
His mind was racing. What if he messed up? What if he missed a beat? What if his voice cracked? What if the camera caught him at the wrong angle?
“30 seconds!”
Jungwon squeezed his eyes shut.
His breathing grew faster. Too fast. His legs felt weak.
Get it together. You’re the leader. You’re supposed to lead. You’re supposed to-
And then - a hand.
Warm. Steady.
Fingers slipped into his own.
Jungwon opened his eyes, startled.
Sunghoon.
His eyes were already on him- calm, knowing. That quiet kind of confidence that never had to be spoken aloud. The faintest curl of a fang flashed in a smile that wasn’t teasing this time, it was reassuring.
Remember what I told you yesterday?
Sunghoon didn’t speak, but Jungwon heard him loud and clear.
“20 seconds!”
The crowd was still roaring, but Jungwon’s chest finally loosened.
“10 seconds!”
Because someone was standing next to him.
Because someone was still holding his hand.
Because even in the chaos, Sunghoon made him feel steady.
The manager shouted, “Let’s go! 5 seconds!”
Sunghoon squeezed his hand once, firmly.
Jungwon finally looked at the others, took a breath, and smiled. Voice clear and even:
“Let’s show them everything we’ve worked for!”
And they ran.
Onto the stage. Into the lights. Into the noise.
And Jungwon didn’t look back. Because someone cared and he was right there.