i'm so sick of seventeen (those golden years)

one : how did we end up here

/cross-posted on ao3

Jungwon isn't sure how he got here.

And he isn't really sure what he means by here, either. Physically, he's sitting on an uncomfortable stool, fighting against a headache and answering questions in a foreign language, using sounds he can't quite wrap his mouth around.

Maybe he means here as in the youngest leader in K-pop. He's here instead of at the dojang, training. Here instead of baking cakes in his Grandmother's house, here with 6 other boys who were also somehow miraculously chosen. All of this feels like a fever dream. One of these days he's going to wake up and be lying down on the couch, his head in his Grandmother's lap as she reads to him.

A sudden wave of homesickness washes over him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. His headache intensifies and he forces himself to close his eyes. He wonders briefly if the managers have any tylenol.

Jaeyun stiffly laughs from somewhere behind him—the noise makes Jungwon tense up. Something about Jaeyun's on-camera laugh always makes his anxiety flare. He pointed it out to his hyung on the car ride home a few weeks ago, but Jaeyun has yet to stop doing it.

"Hyung?" His voice is a little too loud for the early-morning quiet, so five pairs of eyes turn to look at him instead of just the one he intended. He still hasn't gotten used to that, all the people surrounding him these days. He's responsible for these guys, now. It doesn't feel real.

He clears his throat awkwardly. "Sorry. Jake-hyung, I mean." The others look away.

Jaeyun doesn't open his eyes when he responds. "Hm?"

Jungwon turns his head and whispers: "When we're on camera, why do you laugh like that?"

That gets Jaeyun to open his eyes. He looks over, tries to meet Jungwon's eyes in the dark of the early morning. "Like what?"

"I don't know. You—wheeze. Like you're forcing yourself to laugh, or something. It's not your real laugh. Your real laugh isn't ugly, hyung."

Jaeyun hums. "Honestly? I didn't even notice. Those interviews are always one big blur for me, you know that, man. I'm just making sure I don't fuck up my Korean, I've never even thought about my laugh before. Why do you care, anyway?"

"I was just wondering." Jungwon frowns.

Logistically, he knows that Jaeyun didn't intend for his words to come out so sharp, but it still stings somewhere deep inside him. It's not personal, he knows that; it's just before sunrise on a day they were supposed to have off, and they were up way too late last night to be up so early today.

It's not anything personal, and yet Jungwon still feels hot, painful pressure behind his eyes. He lets his them fall shut, and hopes it will be enough to keep the tears at bay—it's not. They tickle his cheeks on their way down, leaving them damp. The tears start to dry on his face, sticky and uncomfortable. He knows if his hyung sees it, he would feel guilty for making him cry, even if he didn't even really do anything wrong. Jaeyun didn't make him cry, not really. Jungwon doesn't know why he's crying.

It's been a thing, lately, feeling like he needs to cry at every small thing. He doesn't, obviously, because what kind of leader cries all the time? Not a good one. Heeseung doesn't cry. This is all probably just the sleep deprivation putting him on edge, anyway. He can tough it out like everyone else.

"—hope to show off a unique style that showcases ENHYPEN's strengths. What about you, Jungwon?"

He jolts, and is suddenly made aware of the fact that he's been staring at a poor camerawoman whose gaze flicks from his face to the lens of her camera. She looks uneasy, and he wonders briefly how long he's been staring at her—he hopes it wasn't too long, but judging from the look on her face, he figures he's going to need to apologize before they leave.