Echoes of the Alley

20 - Beneath the Surface

The studio was quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioning and the occasional click of a mouse. Minho sat at the console, headphones around his neck, while Jisung perched awkwardly on the couch, scrolling through his phone without really reading anything. The atmosphere felt off. Jisung hadn't said much since arriving—not unusual, but tonight his silence carried a weight that even Minho couldn't ignore.

"What do you think of this beat?" Minho asked, breaking the stillness. He spun his chair to face Jisung, hoping to draw him into the process.

Jisung looked up, his eyes a little distant, and nodded. "It's good."

"Good?" Minho raised an eyebrow. "Come on, you're the lyricist. Paint me a picture, Han."

Jisung blinked, caught off guard. He opened his mouth to reply but closed it again, his thoughts tangling before they could form into words. Finally, he shrugged. "It works. Not much else to say."

Minho frowned, spinning back toward the console. He didn't push further, but he could feel the tension radiating off Jisung like static electricity. Something was eating at him, and Minho wasn't sure how to address it without making it worse. Instead, he let the music play, hoping the familiar rhythm might coax Jisung out of his shell.

After a few more minutes of uneasy silence, Jisung stood abruptly. "I'm gonna grab some water," he muttered, heading toward the small kitchenette without waiting for a response.

—
In the kitchen, Jisung leaned heavily against the counter, gripping the edge as if it were the only thing keeping him upright. His chest felt tight, his thoughts spiraling faster than he could catch them. He hated this—the feeling of being trapped inside his own head, the fear that he was dragging everyone down with him. The harder he tried to shake it off, the heavier it seemed to grow.

"You okay?"

Jisung jolted, his heart skipping a beat as Felix appeared in the doorway. He hadn't even heard him come in.

"Yeah," Jisung said quickly, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just needed a breather."

Felix's brow furrowed as he studied his friend. "You sure? You've been kind of... distant lately."

"I'm fine," Jisung insisted, a little too sharply. He immediately regretted the tone but didn't know how to soften it. "Just tired, that's all."

Felix didn't look convinced, but he let it go. "Alright. But if you ever need to talk... you know where to find me."

Jisung nodded, muttering a quick thanks before grabbing a bottle of water and retreating back to the studio.

—
Later that evening, Minho and Jisung sat side by side on the floor, a mess of notebooks and wires spread out between them. The initial tension had eased slightly, but Minho could tell that Jisung was still holding back. He wanted to say something—to pry open whatever door Jisung had slammed shut—but the words felt clumsy in his head.

Instead, he reached for one of the notebooks and flipped it open. "Hey, remember this?" he asked, holding up a page covered in scribbled lyrics. "We wrote this at three in the morning after that horrible practice session. You kept falling asleep and scribbling nonsense halfway through."

A faint smile tugged at Jisung's lips. "You mean the time you made us stay up all night because you thought you had 'a creative breakthrough'?"

"I did have a breakthrough," Minho shot back, feigning offense. "The beat was solid."

"The beat was fine," Jisung conceded. "Your singing, though..."

Minho gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "How dare you insult my angelic voice?"