Why am I different?

Chap 6: We need to talk

Voices echoed off the walls of the studio. The origin, though, was not from the lone figure crouched over papers filled with lyrics and scribbled notes but from a radio to his side. Occasionally, the scrapings of lead on paper molded with the voices, the only sign of life in the serene room.

"Have you ever fought bad?" asked one of the DJs of Love FM's Two Men Show.

"We haven't ever got into a fist fight..." a voice replied.

Nickhun, Minjun thought absently, his focus more on the lyrics in front of him and the tune playing in his head.

Junho's lilt voice followed next, saying, "we didn't get into an actual fist fight, but definitely everyone had their fists clenched at least once."

A chuckle escaped Minjun's lips at the comment.

"However, we're people who are stuck together for good, so we have to resolve everything by talking. Because we can't let weird situations occur," he continued.

Minjun nodded, still not totally focused, his pencil gliding over the paper in purposeful strokes. A short second later the pencil froze as Junho's last statement clicked in his mind. Weird situations. Wasn't the incident three days ago a pretty good example of such situations?

The conversation on the radio slowly faded into the background as memories swamped his minds, snatching his attention away.

The waiting room was so saturated with tension that Minjun could feel it even behind his tightly shut eyes. He felt strong arms circled around his waist and he buried his face further into the firm chest, craving some semblance of solace. The back of his neck was still damp with cold sweat and his body was slightly trembling. It felt as if he was standing on the precipice of a panic attack as a visceral fear worked its way up his spine. His extreme reactions bewildered him. His head and heart hurts but his mind refused to let him address the cause. The arms around him tightened and a cheek rested on his head. He was totally engulfed now. It felt warm and safe and unwittingly, his heartbeat started slowing down, following the rhythm beating against his cheek and filling his ears. The hand on his back started rubbing small circles and despite himself, he was finally lulled into a restless sleep.

When Minjun awoke in time for their interview, he tried making peace. He reasoned that he should forget about his encounter with Nickhun and opted to act as per normal. During the interview, he placed his hands on Taecyeon's shoulders in a rebellious move against Nickhun's claims. What he did not anticipate, though, was the muscles under his fingers going taut as Taecyeon tensed up, as if uncomfortable with the touch. As if scalded, Minjun quickly retracted his hands, trying hard to control his facial expressions. He felt a prick in his heart that his mind was adamant to dismiss, forcing his attention towards their upcoming performance instead.

Unsurprisingly, even after the performance, the atmosphere was heavy. There was no laughter or cheers deafening the room, nor were there the usual chaos of physically large but mentally young kids jumping and flying around. Instead, there were thin smiles and brittle laughter to dry jokes meant to lift spirits but failing in its attempts. Minjun felt guilty for ruining their night. By the time they had to leave, he was more than relieved to be away from his members as he would travel separately from them. Unlike them, he would head straight to his studio to work on his solo comeback track that still needed some finishing touches instead of going to the radio station.

Which was why he was in his studio right now and not together with his members. The reminder jerked him out of the trance he was in and turned his thoughts towards the mountain of work that had yet to be done.

"Come on, focus! Work, work!" he berated himself, tapping his cheeks lightly to wake himself further.

He shook his head to clear his mind and determinedly picked up his pencil to continue his work. As if on cue, the DJ mentioned his name and his pencil halted before it could even begin its journey across the paper. The question that followed had him gripping it so tightly to the point of snapping it in two.