universe | ✓

philia ⇝ 3s

author's note

originally posted: 8th march 2021, for -simplicitae-'s birthday

ib: thank u by ateez

(not the song described in this but similar)

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PHILIA

3S Idol AU

(n.) a type of love between friends

When Timber asked him if he could join him in Flash's studio later that evening, Soarin said "of course," immediately, the words slipping out of his mouth without a second to think. Timber grins at him with that smile, the one that makes his eyes disappear, cheeks full and cute. Soarin reaches out to ruffle to the younger's curls, to which Timber giggles before going back to his own thing.

As Soarin washes the plates, the questions start bubbling in his chest. The dish-washing liquid foams around his fingers as he thinks, wonders, inattentively scraping negligible stains off the tableware.

Flash's studio tends to be off-limits most times. If they're ever writing or producing a song together as a group, they'd either use 'Bolts Cave or Everfree's Lab. Rarely does Soarin ever find himself in Drive. It's not like their leader completely forbids them from entering, at least not straightforwardly. Flash just calls it the place he likes to stay in when he needs to be alone. That in itself sort of led the other two to keep out of it. Soarin and Timber love him and loving him means also giving him space when he needs it.

He only remembers the inside of it from that one time where he and Timber hesitated outside of it, watching the gradient of the night sky grow a darker blue by the minute, unsure if they should barge in and take Flash out. They knocked on the door and called for him multiple times, resulting in the same just lemme get this part right. The youngest was patient enough to lean against the wall beside the door, unlike Soarin who gave up and stormed right in. They both found Sentry asleep, head on desk, by his PC, producing software still running.

Soarin's probably been in the room more than once but that's the only time he fully remembers. He wonders, fingers damp and wrinkly, why Timber asked him instead of Flash. He hasn't seen the latter since the morning. Soarin guesses it's one of those days, but why else would they call him? The feeling shakes itself off his chest once he places the last plate back in the drying rack, curling his fingers in and out.

Drive is warm when he enters, sort of like a booth in a way. The door closes softly, making a little suction noise from the material of the outer case. Soarin catches glimpses of different equipment, similar to those he has in his own studio. A red electric guitar leans against the wall to his right, still clean but untouched, its head slipped, crooked, into the corner. Walls carry mist, but not of dark colours; it's gentle, maybe a little timid of a colour.

Flash's back is turned to him until his footsteps fill the room, Timber's leaning against the wall to their left. Regardless of the warmth, the air carries uncertainty. Not in a suffocating way, but he still wishes he can ease it somehow.

"What's up?" he says, slipping his hands into his pockets.

Flash doesn't look as tired as Soarin expected him to be, perhaps the better skincare is hiding it but it appears some sort of nervousness is keeping him awake. He smiles at Soarin, rolling up another chair for him to sit.