Echoes of the Alley

6 - Shadows and Echoes

The sunlight filtered through Jisung's bedroom window, but it felt cold against his skin. He'd woken up with the same heavy feeling that had been following him for days now—but worse. A knot of self-doubt he couldn't seem to untangle.

Pulling his knees to his chest, Jisung stared at his guitar leaning against the wall. Music had always been his escape, his way of making sense of the world, but even that felt distant now. The melody he'd been trying to write for Minho refused to come together, no matter how many hours he poured into it.

"What's the point?" he muttered under his breath, flopping back onto his bed.

A soft knock at the door startled him. Felix peeked in, his blond hair sticking up in odd angles from sleep.

"Hey," Felix said quietly. "You okay?"

Jisung forced a smile. "Yeah, just tired."

Felix stepped inside after closing the door, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You've been saying that a lot lately."

"I've been feeling it a lot lately," Jisung admitted, pulling his blanket tighter around himself.

Felix studied him for a moment, his usual bright demeanor dimmed by concern. "You know you don't have to do this alone, right? Whatever's going on with you... or Minho... or anything."

Jisung exhaled slowly, his shoulders slumping. "I know. It's just—sometimes it feels like... I'm not good enough. Like no matter what I do, it's not going to matter."

Felix frowned. "Not good enough for what? Or for who?"

Jisung hesitated, his gaze fixed on the floor. "For Minho. For myself. For anyone."

Felix's expression softened, and he placed a comforting hand on Jisung's shoulder. "That's not true, Ji. You matter. To me, to Seungmin and Jeongin... and probably even to Minho, even if he doesn't know how to show it to you yet."

Jisung's chest tightened, but he managed a small nod. "Thanks, Lix."

"Always," Felix said with a warm smile. "Now, come on. Seungmin's making pancakes, and if we don't hurry, Jeongin's going to inhale all of them."

Grinning softly, Jisung got up right after Felix left.

Even though he felt a tad better, that unwavering feeling of self-doubt still lingering.

A Chance Encounter

Later that day, Jisung wandered into the studio again, hoping the familiar surroundings might help clear his mind. He wasn't expecting Minho to be there, but he found him in the corner, stretching against the barre.

Minho glanced up when Jisung entered but didn't say anything, returning his attention to his routine.

Jisung hesitated by the door, debating whether to leave, but then Minho spoke.

"You look like you've had a rough day."

Jisung blinked, caught off guard by the blunt observation. "Uh... yeah, I guess."

Minho tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "Why?"

Jisung shifted uncomfortably, unsure how much to share or if he even should. "Just... a lot on my mind. I've been trying to work on this song, but it's not coming together. And I don't know if it ever will."

Minho stood, wiping his hands on his sweatpants. "Why does it matter so much?"

"Because..." Jisung paused, searching for the right words. "Because I want it to mean something. To you. To me. To anyone who hears it."

Minho crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. "You're putting a lot of pressure on yourself for something that's supposed to be creative."

Jisung's jaw tightened. "It's not just about being creative. It's about proving to myself that I can do this—that I'm not just wasting my time."

Minho's expression softened, just slightly. "You're not wasting your time."

The words were so unexpected that Jisung blinked, staring at him in disbelief.

"W-what?"

"You heard me," Minho said, his tone even. "If you're passionate about it, it's not a waste."

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the air between them charged with unspoken thoughts.

The Struggle to Believe

That night, Jisung sat on his bedroom floor, his guitar resting against his knees. The room was dark except for the faint glow of his desk lamp.

Minho's words replayed in his mind, but they felt like they belonged to someone else.
"You're not wasting your time."

Jisung wanted to believe it, but the knot in his chest tightened. Every time he tried to write, the melody seemed just out of reach, slipping through his fingers like sand.

He strummed a few chords absently, his fingers moving on autopilot. A familiar feeling of frustration bubbled up, and before he knew it, he was slamming the guitar down with a thud.

"Why can't I do this?" he whispered harshly, his voice cracking.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, but he wiped them away angrily.

"Get it together, Jisung," he muttered to himself. "You can do this. You have to."

But at that moment, he wasn't sure if he believed it.

Minho's Late Night Practice

Meanwhile, Minho was back at the studio, the sound of his movements echoing in the empty space.

He pushed himself harder than usual, trying to shake off the strange, nagging feeling that had been following him since his conversation with Jisung.

Why do you care so much?

The question haunted him, but the answer remained just out of reach.

As he collapsed onto the floor, chest heaving, he found himself thinking about Jisung again—about the way his voice had trembled when he spoke, about the fire in his eyes when he talked about his music.

Minho sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. He didn't know why Jisung's persistence mattered to him.

But it did.

———————

— A/N: This chapter is longer than 5, but still short :C, I'm gonna make them longer from now on

— Recommended song for this chapter: "Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby" by Cigarettes After Sex