Seventeen: the quiet harmony of us [Woozi X Scoups]

Chapter 3: Fractured Harmonies

The tour was a whirlwind. City after city, stage after stage, lights flashing and fans screaming their names. It was everything Seventeen had worked for, but the cracks in the foundation were starting to show.

Woozi, for all his dedication, was struggling to maintain the facade of calm. The late nights in the studio, the endless pressure to write, produce, and perfect, were starting to take a toll. He had been running on empty for too long, and the weight of his responsibilities threatened to suffocate him.

Seungcheol, ever the observant leader, had noticed the change. Woozi was withdrawing again, retreating behind his walls, and even though Seungcheol had been the one person who could always reach him, it felt like there was now a distance between them. The quiet moments they shared before the tour felt like a distant memory, buried under the chaos of their schedules.

The others noticed too.

During rehearsals for one of their biggest stops in Seoul, tension rippled through the group. The music wasn’t syncing up, the choreography was sloppy, and the mood was tense. Woozi, hunched over the soundboard, looked like he was about to snap.

Mingyu, always the playful one, tried to lighten the mood. “Come on, hyung. Let’s take five, huh? Maybe eat something? You’ve been at this for hours.”

Woozi didn’t even glance up from his laptop. “I don’t have time,” he muttered, his voice clipped. “We’re behind.”

“But—”

“Enough!” Woozi’s voice cracked through the room, startling everyone into silence. His hands gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white. “We need to focus. I don’t have time for breaks, and neither do any of you.”

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence, the other members exchanging uncertain glances. Seungcheol stood near the back, his brow furrowed. This wasn’t like Woozi. He was driven, yes, but never cruel. Never harsh. This was something different. Something worse.

Seungcheol took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Jihoon,” he said, his tone firm but gentle. “You need to slow down.”

Woozi shot him a look that was filled with frustration and exhaustion. “Don’t start with me, Seungcheol. I know what I’m doing.”

“I know you do,” Seungcheol said, his voice steady, “but this isn’t working. We’re all tired. Pushing yourself—and the rest of us—like this isn’t going to help.”

Woozi clenched his jaw, his eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and something else—something like fear. “I don’t have a choice. This has to be perfect. If I don’t—”

Seungcheol stepped closer, his presence commanding yet calm. “If you don’t what?”

Woozi’s lips parted, but no words came out. The room felt suffocating, too quiet, too tense. He wanted to say it, to scream it out loud. If he didn’t hold everything together, who would? If he didn’t ensure perfection, the band could fall apart. It was his responsibility. His burden. But the words got stuck in his throat, a knot of anxiety and fear tightening inside his chest.

“I can’t—” Woozi’s voice broke, quieter now, filled with vulnerability that he didn’t want to show. “I can’t let this fall apart.”

And there it was. The truth he had been carrying for too long. The weight of it made his legs feel weak, and for a brief moment, Woozi looked like he might crumble right there in front of them.

Seungcheol closed the distance between them in two strides, placing a firm hand on Woozi’s shoulder. “We’re not falling apart,” he said softly, his voice full of quiet conviction. “You’re not alone in this. We’re a team. You don’t have to do this by yourself.”

Woozi stared at him, eyes wide and glassy, like he was searching for something—reassurance, maybe, or a lifeline. He wanted to believe Seungcheol, wanted to lean on him like he had before, but the fear was still there, gnawing at him from the inside.

The other members stayed silent, watching the exchange with a mixture of concern and empathy. They all loved Woozi, respected him for his talent and his relentless dedication, but they had seen him spiraling for weeks. They just didn’t know how to help.

Seungcheol’s grip tightened on Woozi’s shoulder, grounding him. “Let’s take a break,” he said softly, but there was no room for argument in his voice. “You need it. We all do.”

Woozi hesitated, his gaze flicking to the other members, then back to Seungcheol. There was a part of him that wanted to argue, to keep pushing forward until everything was perfect, but he was so tired. Tired in a way that sleep couldn’t fix. And for once, he allowed himself to let go, if only a little.

“Fine,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Seungcheol gave him a small, reassuring smile. “Good.”

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Later that night, after the others had gone to bed, Woozi found himself sitting on the rooftop of the hotel, the cool night air brushing against his skin. He leaned back against the metal railing, staring up at the stars, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts he couldn’t quiet.

The door to the rooftop opened, and he didn’t have to look to know who it was.

Seungcheol stepped out, his footsteps soft against the concrete. He didn’t say anything at first, just walked over to sit beside Woozi, close but not touching. The silence between them was heavy, but not uncomfortable.

Woozi let out a slow breath. “I’m sorry.”

Seungcheol shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I do,” Woozi insisted, his voice quieter now, almost broken. “I’ve been—” He paused, trying to find the right words. “I’ve been pushing too hard. On myself. On all of you.”

Seungcheol turned his head slightly, his eyes gentle as they met Woozi’s. “I get it, Jihoon. You care so much about the music, about us, that sometimes you forget to take care of yourself. But you’re only human. You don’t have to be perfect.”

Woozi’s chest tightened at the words. Perfect. That’s what he had been chasing all along. But the harder he tried, the further away it seemed. He wasn’t sure if he even knew what perfect looked like anymore.

“I don’t know how to stop,” Woozi admitted quietly, his voice trembling with the weight of his confession. “I don’t know how to… let go.”

Seungcheol smiled softly, his expression full of understanding. “You don’t have to do it all at once. Just take it one step at a time. We’ll figure it out together.”

Together.

It was a word Woozi had heard a thousand times, but tonight, it felt different. It felt real.

Seungcheol reached out, his hand brushing against Woozi’s. It was a simple gesture, but the warmth of Seungcheol’s touch was enough to make Woozi’s breath hitch.

“I’m here,” Seungcheol said, his voice low and steady. “No matter how hard things get, I’m always going to be here.”

Woozi’s heart raced, the unspoken weight of their relationship hanging in the air between them. It wasn’t just about the music, or the band, or the tour. It was about the two of them, about the quiet moments they shared, the unspoken words that lingered in the spaces between their conversations.

“I know,” Woozi whispered, his voice barely audible. “Thank you.”

Seungcheol didn’t respond with words. He didn’t need to. Instead, he leaned closer, their shoulders brushing as they sat side by side under the stars. It was a quiet kind of intimacy, the kind that didn’t need grand gestures or declarations.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Woozi allowed himself to relax. He didn’t have all the answers, didn’t know how to fix everything, but in that moment, with Seungcheol beside him, it felt like maybe—just maybe—everything would be okay.

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