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whumptimebaby · 2 years

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I know I'll be alright (but I'm not tonight)

| No warnings apply | 1/1 | Hurt/Comfort | 08/10/2022 (MM/DD/YYYY)

CW: Earthquakes, Toxic Perfectionism

There isn't a soul at 4*Town's agency who doesn't know about Jesse's overworking problem, but in all fairness, he was working on it. It only really comes out when something bad happens, which really isn't too often, not anymore.

An earthquake though, that'll definitely do it.

Links: AO3 | Full Fic Below Cut

On at least some level, Jesse was aware that he had a problem.

Last year, ‘97, Robaire had called him on it. Jesse had been sneaking out to practice after everyone else went to bed, running off at most three hours of sleep on most days. He had expectations to meet, things he couldn't fail, and to know that there was even a slight chance he could slip up was infectious.

This disease, this drive to be a walking example of perfection, was genetic. From the very moment he came into existence, it plagued him.

What surprised him about Robaire's intervention wasn't that there was a problem, it was that he'd noticed the problem. He looked past the results, the good results, and saw what was happening on a much deeper level. Management didn't take too kindly to him putting in fewer hours, nor did they appreciate when he started making more mistakes, but for a little bit at least, he allowed himself to be satisfied with those imperfections.

But it was still genetic. When bad things happen, when he loses sight of how to manage his mind, he falls right back into his old habits.

It wasn't even like something that bad had happened. Jesse woke up after a particularly bad sleep, and when he'd gone to make himself toast, he dropped a plate. It didn't even break. He just dropped it.

Instead of picking it up, he sat on the floor, trying to decide if he should cry or move on.

It flipped a switch in him. His skin lit with the barest hint of energy, just noticeable enough to drive him nuts. He tried to shake it off in most cases, but today his attempt ended up with him accidently jamming his elbow into the cupboard behind him.

And that made the feeling so much worse.

When Taeyoung came into the kitchen, clad with messy hair and his oversized grey sleeping shirt, he took one sweeping look around to take everything in. Jesse waved meekly.

Taeyoung walked right past him and hit something on the toaster. "What do you want on your toast?"

"My dignity."

He chuckled. "What happened?"

"I dropped a plate."

"I see." The toast popped, Taeyoung must have only intended to reheat it. "I don't think dignity spreads well."

"Surprise me then."

"Yes sir."

The smell alone was enough to make him lightheaded. Maybe it was the lack of quality sleep, but whatever Taeyoung was spreading smelled delectable as it melted from the heat of the bread. He let himself get lost in the sound of the knife scraping.

Taeyoung eventually sat next to him, and handed him a new plate, adorned with two stunning pieces of jam-covered toast.

"I thought you could use something sweet," he said.

He took a bite. "Mm, you're something else."

"It tastes okay?"

"Tastes like dignity."

He broke into a grin. "It's just toast."

"Thanks, Tae."

"You okay?"

"Mhm."

"What's wrong?"

Did he have a tell or something? How had Taeyoumg clocked him so fast?

"I need to do something."

That's how he ended up sitting on the black leather couch in the recording studio. Originally, it had been just the two of them, but one by one the other members showed up too. He thought that putting his energy into something would nullify the buzzing, but nothing he tried behind the booth seemed to cut it. The feeling was something akin to adrenaline, keeping him heightened and alert.

Taeyoung was doing a horrible job at pretending he wasn't worried, but in all fairness, Jesse was doing a horrible job at pretending he didn't notice. They were locked in a stasis, neither moving to push either way.

Seriously. The buzz, in all its frustrating glory, should not have been there. He slept badly, he dropped a plate, and he hit his elbow. That was not cause for such a strong reaction, and it was a strong reaction. That feeling was incredibly familiar, a symptom of his genetic predisposition to working himself into dust.

Maybe he should be worried?

Oh well. He didn't want to deal with whatever deeper implications came with that, so he wasn't going to.

Luckily for him, Aaron T. was in the booth. If there was anything that was baffling enough to distract him, it was whatever he was planning to do.

"Okay, okay Tae, put on the beat."

Taeyoung saluted, his fingers dancing across the soundboard. Jesse had no clue how it worked, nor how Taeyoung learned to navigate it, but after a few clicks and messing with one of the many reel to reel cassette tapes, a slow, groovy hip hop track played.

Aaron T. slipped the headphones up to his ears and stepped closer to the mic. As the intro played, he threw up two peace signs, letting his arms fall back to his sides. He nodded along to the counts, and then-

"When it comes to 4*Town, better ask Robaire. He sits in on more meetings than our manager, I swear."

Was he...? Was he freestyling?

"Got an eye for design and a heart for a mind, the pitter patter patterns of rainfall are in his eyes."

Oh God. He was freestyling. This is what Jesse got for not paying attention.

"He's a sensitive guy, but it's a weapon in disguise! You should see the 4*Townies falling for him when he cries."

He exchanged a glance with Robaire, whose entire face was alight with glee. Apparently, this was something to be delighted by.

Never a dull moment with Aaron T., that's for sure.

"His French is captivating, he speaks it crystal clear. He makes his fans scream 'je veux te baiser.'"

"T.!" Robaire pressed the button that allowed him to speak into the booth. "That was foul!"

"Don't act scandalised, you taught me that!" Aaron T. pointed at him. His eyes briefly met Jesse's, and a playful smirk graced his lips.

Uh oh.

He waited for the next set of eight counts to start, pressing his hands together as though he was praying.

"Forgive me father, I think I might have sinned. Jesse just grounded me for bringing up his kids."

Jesse sank further into the couch.

"Relax old man, it happens to the best of us, can't think of one guy who gets half as annoyed at us."

He was in between deciding if he was going to kill Aaron T. when he stepped out of the booth or not. For now, a middle finger would do.

"The resident pretty boy, I think I have a crush." He put his hand on his chin like he was genuinely thinking about it. "Got all of 4*Town on our knees and has the nerve to blush. When he's on stage he's magic, you'll see. Come to our next concert, cheer for him, Jesse!"

"Fuck you!" He called out.

He laughed. "Love you, Jess!"

"Me next!" Taeyoung pretended to pound on the glass. "Me, me please!

Aaron T. winked, and counted himself in. "If there's ever been an angel on earth, you'd find it's Tae-youngest off the group but think he's older any day-"

"Why is he doing this?" Jesse whispered to Aaron Z.

"Beats me."

"-time you'll find him taking care of injured ani-mulls over every single reason he should leave us for the wolves."

"He's kinda clever," Aaron Z. added.

Jesse shook his head. "I will bet actual money he wrote these ahead of time."

"Be nice," Robaire teased, "he has a crush on you."

"Oh stop." He waved him away.

"Did I call him an angel? I forgot, he's kinda not. Though we're both troublemakers, only I get caught."

Taeyoung made an innocent heart with his hands.

"He's our baby brother, our muse, our inspiration, and his fans? There's enough to fill a whole nation."

"Baller!" Taeyoung cheered.

"Ay-ron-zee, you're next!"

"Oh god," he mumbled.

"Our dance captain, that's my boy Aaron Z., he spits bars and riffs like it'll make him big green."

"He's coming for your gig." Robaire made a big show of sitting next to Aaron Z., putting his arm around him.

Aaron Z. shoved him off. "Shut up."

"A little bit quiet but a softie at heart, unless you try to show him up, he'll tear your ass apart.

He gave Robaire a foul glare.

"Only ended up with us cause Robbie up and begged, left us spiralling and trying to get him in the bag."

"You love me." Robaire mouthed. Aaron Z. slapped his shoulder.

"Commodity and prodigy, everybody knows it's true. Catch Z! Coming to a big screen near you!"

Aaron T. slipped the headphones off, letting them rest on his shoulders. Taeyoung must have decided this was a personal attack, because he charged over to speak into the booth.

"Put those back on, you're not done."

"Wha-"

"You didn't do yourself."

His nose scrunched. "Jeez, okay, if you're so excited."

"Yes I am," Taeyoung insisted, "Go go go!"

He put the headphones back on. "Last but not least, there's me, and that's T! There isn't much to say, but it's great being me."

Jesse found it hard to believe there could ever be few words to describe Aaron T.

"I'm with the best guys I ever could have known, the more I got to know them the more they really shown."

Oh. He was buttering them up. That made more sense.

"With all that said and all that done, I hope you got to see." Aaron T. bopped along with the words. "Robbie, Jesse, Taeyoung, Z., and maybe even me. 4*Town forever, our slogan reigns true. Immortalised in music and we do it all for you."

"Woo!" Robaire cheered.

Aaron Z. flinched. "Do you have to yell in my ear?"

"You're grumpy today." Taeyoung giggled.

"'Am not," he grumbled.

Aaron T. left the recording booth and hit a button on the console to stop the tape.

"T." Jesse nodded toward Aaron Z. "Make him happy."

He saluted. "Aye aye!"

"Don't-"

Aaron T. grabbed his wrist and gave him a little tug. He guided Aaron Z. to where there was a little more space, put his hands on his waist, and swayed like they were a high school couple at prom.

"What's wrong?" He asked gently.

Aaron Z., despite willingly participating in Aaron T.'s antics, did his best to look and sound annoyed. "Nothing."

"Nothing," he imitated, "okay big man, if you say so."

He shut his eyes. "'Gonna kill you, Jesse."

"Shh." Aaron T. stroked the side of his head. "Violence is not the answer."

"Aaron."

Jesse watched the mock gentleness become genuine as Aaron T.'s body language changed. "I've got you, you can relax."

And he did. Somehow, through the special Aaron bond or whatever, Aaron Z. completely melted, becoming putty for Aaron T. to mold. Jesse almost felt like he was intruding.

Aaron Z. sighed. "Thanks."

"You wanna tell me what's wrong?"

He mumbled something, and Aaron T.'s cheeks flushed, his eyes widening with surprise. "If you say so."

Yup, now he really felt like he was intruding.

Taeyoung shuffled awkwardly past them to fill the now empty spot on the couch.

"Are they staring?" Aaron Z. asked.

"Mhm."

He opened an eye. "Jealous?"

Maybe a little. Maybe a lot, but not for the reasons he was insinuating. Jesse would give just about anything to relax in that same way, to deflate, to stop being so itchy.

He squirmed a little, and Aaron Z.'s brow creased with worry.

"Of course!" Taeyoung huffed. "But I can't decide who I'm more jealous of."

Aaron Z., gave Aaron T. a pat on the back. "Go give Tae some love."

They shared a look.

"Okay." He eventually beamed. "If you say so."

Aaron Z. shuffled onto the couch, sitting on the arm. He nudged Jesse's shoulder.

Taeyoung latched onto Aaron T. "With all that... what were the words?"

"Huh? Oh!" Aaron T. perked up. "With all that said and all that done I hope you got to see Robbie, Jesse, Taeyoung, Z., and maybe even me."

"I like the way that sounds." He hummed. "Robbie, Jesse, Taeyoung, Z., and maybe even me, it feels nice in the mouth."

Aaron Z. nudged his shoulder again, and Jesse realised he wanted his hand. He gave it to him.

Taeyoung repeated it again. "With all that said and all that done, I hope you got to see Robbie, Jesse, Taeyoung, Z., and maybe even me."

Aaron T. gave his nose a tap. "You're cute."

"It's fun to say!"

Jesse flashed Aaron Z. a brief smile, which only seemed to deepen the worry set in his bandmate's features. He really must've had a tell or something.

To his dismay, Taeyoung kept sparing tiny glances at them. The kid knew that Z. knew that something was up. Now pretending he wasn't on the verge of exploding from nervous energy would be even more of a challenge.

"Jesse?" He startled when Aaron T. said his name.

"Hm?"

"You want a go?"

"I'm still recovering from..." Why was everyone staring at him? Was he supposed to do something? "whatever you just did."

He pouted. "You loved it."

Jesse blinked.

"C'mon," Aaron T. whined, "shake the house down. Start your stand-up career. Get in there and do something."

"I don't think I'd be doing anything entertaining in there."

"Why'd you want to come here anyway?" Taeyoung prodded with his words, sticking his nose into business it probably did belong in.

"I've been working on something," he admitted, "and I'm not really happy with it yet."

"Oh!" Aaron T. straightened up. "You should've said something, I wouldn't have hogged the booth."

"No, no, it was funny."

He expected him to brighten, but instead, he could almost see the lightbulb flickering on above his head.

Great. That just left-

Robaire chimed in, "You're acting strange."

Fantastic.

"I didn't sleep very well, I'm just tired."

"Bull." Aaron T. crossed his arms. "What's going on?"

"It's really-"

Taeyoung raised his hand. "Ask me! Ask me!"

Aaron Z. looked unimpressed. "What's going on, Tae?"

"He was on the kitchen floor this morning."

"Oh."

"Why were you on the kitchen floor, Jesse 4*Town?" Robaire spoke with humour, but none of it was present in the tension on his face.

"Because I slept like shit, and I felt like shit? Really, it's fine."

There were other things he could have said, other hints, invitations he could let slip. He could tell them that he didn't want to talk about it, or try to look overly happy so they could tell something was really up, but while that itch danced across his skin he couldn't do anything to let them in.

It was his energy. Telling them about it and accepting help would only lessen the amount of work he had to do, and as much as he was already exhausted, he needed to pile as much as he could on his plate. On a level much finer than his awareness could reach, he knew he needed to be busy, to soothe his fired-up nervous system, to make something good of his limited time on this planet.

He had a song to work on. It was why he was there. As much as he loved breathing in the joy of his bandmates, that was for Jesse, not Jesse from 4*Town.

And Jesse from 4*Town demanded his attention.

"I dropped a plate." He turned up the dramatics, kicking his legs up onto Robaire and draping himself over Aaron Z.'s lap. "So I figured I'd drop myself too, you know, just to get even."

"How does 'I dropped a plate' become 'I need to go to the recording studio?'"

"It made a sound." He shrugged.

Aaron Z. used his free hand to gently massage Jesse's scalp. "T.?"

"Yeah, love?"

"Don't call me that, I will leave."

Aaron T. mimicked him, making a vaguely Z.-shaped hand puppet and having it mouth along. "I will leave."

"Is he lying?"

Jesse avoided eye contact with him.

"Yeah, it's more than that."

For fucks sake.

"It's really nothi-"

Robaire cut in. "We're always here."

"I know!"

"Jesse-"

"I'm sorry for worrying you, it really is nothing."

He frowned. "It can be nothing. Whatever's going on doesn't have to be a big thing. You don't have to open up about it, it's just... You can tell us that there is something wrong, and leave it at that, and we'll leave it alone, but if you sit here and try to say there isn't anything wrong? That's-"

"Oh my god, let it go!" He snapped. Aaron T. flinched, and Jesse shut his eyes, taking a deep, calming breath. "Sorry, I'm sorry."

The air was taut.

Taeyoung tried, "Jesse-"

He stood up, startling the four couch-sitters. "Let me get set up."

He turned his back to them, grabbing an acoustic guitar off the wall and slipping into the booth. It was already tuned, courtesy of Robaire and Aaron Z.'s dramatic rendition of Careless Whisper.

He pulled the stool up to the mic and put the headphones on.

Robaire had migrated to the seat at the control panel. His voice came through the speakers. “Do you want us to record it?”

He shook his head. “Just messing around for now.”

He blinked, and leaned forward to talk into the booth again. “You sound good over the mic.”

The tiniest amount of tension evaporated, and he chuckled.

Aaron T. scrambled over, nudging Robaire aside so he could speak. “You need to laugh like that at least once on every album, the 4*Townies would go nuts.”

“As if.” Jesse rolled his eyes.

“I’m serious,” he insisted, “I got chills.”

Robaire nodded seriously. “It was a very good laugh.”

“Very fertile.”

Taeyoung keeled over, laughing so hard his face turned red.

“Fertile?”

“Did I say that?” Aaron T. grew a cheeky smile.

Aaron Z. said something, and pulled him back to the couch. Aaron T. piled onto Taeyoung, laughing at least half as hard.

“You guys are a headache.”

Robaire raised his hands in surrender, and went in to add, “You’re just as bad.”

“Oh really?”

“Mhm.”

He traced his fingers along the guitar strings, humming to himself. Robaire took the hint, and retreated back to the couch.

The cool metal of the strings did nothing to quell the burn in his hands. A shudder ran through him.

He gave the guitar an experimental strum, and frowned. “Can someone grab me a capo?”

Taeyoung gave him a thumb’s up, grabbed the offending object, and popped his head in the booth. As soon as the door opened, a low rumble penetrated the soundproof walls.

“Here-”

Jesse only barely caught himself as the stool suddenly slipped out from under him. His arms flew up as he tried to steady himself, but his legs were shaking.

What the fuck? What the fuck? What was happening?

He made the briefest eye contact with Aaron Z. as the bandmate in question ducked beneath the couch.

Holy shit, holy, was this an earthquake?

The mic fell into the glass, cracking it where they collided.

Taeyoung clutched the doorframe, an arm over his head in a poor attempt to protect himself.

The cabinet swayed dangerously.

“Tae!” Robaire called. “Move!”

It tipped.

Jesse made a break for him.

His hand clamped around his wrist, and he tugged.

The cabinet crashed, cassette tapes flying as the world continued to shake.

“Tae?” Jesse had both arms around him.

He breathed, “Whoa.”

Jesse guided him down to the floor, using his body as a shield. “Cover your neck with your hands.”

“What?”

He took Taeyoung’s hands and put them behind his head. “Like this. You’re okay.”

“This is an earthquake?”

“It’s an earthquake,” he said with more confidence than he had.

The mic stand shifted again, crashing into his back. Taeyoung flinched below him.

“You’re okay,” he reassured, “It’ll be over soon.”

“Jess!” Someone, Robaire, called out.

It was too late though. Something hit him.

One of his arm’s buckled, but the other was enough to keep him from crushing the boy beneath him. He tried to shake the weight off.

“Tae?”

“Yeah?”

“Crawl over to the wall, use your elbows, don’t take your hands away from your neck.”

“Wh-”

He fought to keep himself from slipping. What was so heavy? “Just do it.”

He did as he was told, inching his way to the wall.

Robaire called again, barely audible over the sound of the things falling in other rooms. “Are you two okay?”

“We’re fine!”

“Are you sure?”

“Not much you could do if we weren’t.”

The shaking stopped.

As soon as Taeyoung was clear, Jesse let himself drop.

“Holy shit.” Taeyoung breathed. “Jesse?”

“Keep still, it could start again.”

“Jesse, the roof-”

Oh. That’s what had him pinned.

“I’m alright. We have to count to sixty, okay?”

“The roof, you’re under-”

“Tae.” Jesse reached forward. “Tae, it’s okay. Count with me, okay? We can’t do anything until we know it’s done, so we have to count.”

He swallowed. “Okay.”

“One.” He tried to sound as soothing as he could. “Two, three, four…”

Taeyoung joined in. “Five, six, seven, eight, nine…”

At twenty-four, the earth began its rampage again.

The aftershock carried much less strength than the first round, but it was still enough to make the duo tense up.

“You’re doing good,” Jesse said.

Taeyoung laughed. “You sure? Cause everything about this feels wrong.”

“This is exactly what they teach kids to do here. We had drills in elementary school.”

“They do drills in Seoul sometimes, for first responders mostly.”

“In Seoul? What about Busan?”

He shook his head. “Not at my school.”

“This must be pretty scary then.”

“Understatement.”

The shaking came to another standstill. Jesse breathed the tension out of his shoulders. “You ready to count again?”

“From one?”

“You got it.”

Taeyoung peeked up at him. “That’s annoying.”

He scoffed. “Tell that to the earth.”

“How many times is it gonna start shaking again?”

“There’s no way to know. We just count.”

“And if we get to sixty and nothing happens?”

“We get the fuck out of here.”

“Right, okay, so, one, two, three…”

“...fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty.” They finished together.

For a moment, there was quiet.

“Are you guys okay?” Jesse called out.

“Everything’s good out here,” Aaron T. responded, “but uh…”

“What?”

“The cabinet is kinda… I don’t think you’re getting out anytime soon.”

Oh.

Taeyoung sat up, shuffling over to get the piece of the roof off Jesse’s back. “Oh! It’s not too heavy.”

He nodded. “I’m just at a bad angle, I think.”

“Hold on, let me-” The weight disappeared. “Okay! Move!”

Jesse scooted away, sitting with his back to the wall. With a huff, Taeyoung dropped the roof tile and sat back down next to him.

Aaron Z. appeared in the window. “We could try to break you out?”

“Leave it to the professionals please.” Jesse's brows turned up. “You three should go.”

“We can’t.” Robaire joined him, pounding on the glass in slow motion. “The door is jammed.”

What a headache.

“Now what?” He crossed his arms.

Aaron Z. shrugged. “We wait.”

“Can you call anyone?”

“I tried,” Robaire said, “lines are down.”

Taeyoung groaned. “That is so annoying.”

Jesse nodded his agreement. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

“Jeez, you two are sour.” Aaron T. propped himself on the soundboard. “It’s not that different from when they cut our power.”

Aaron Z. swatted at him. “Don’t bring that up.”

“We just need to chat or something, no big deal.”

Maybe he was right. They were all okay, it was just a waiting game.

It would be easier if he didn’t still feel so damn itchy. Seriously, who survives an earthquake, and the first thing they want to do after is work?

He really did have a problem.

“You know what?” Robaire pulled a chair over so he could sit. “We could make a pretty good song out of this. Shaking up my heart or something.”

“Stop that.” Taeyoung giggled. “You’re shaking up my heart, something, something, you make it stop and start.”

“Let’s get you a writing credit on the next album.” Aaron T. grinned.

He continued, “When you walk in the room, it starts to shake. Baby, you’re my earthquake.”

Robaire grew a fond smile. “That’s the winner.”

“We’ll do a whole album!”

“I don’t mean to impede on the fun.” Aaron Z. gave Jesse a pointed stare. “But I just want to make it clear that if any of you feel even the tiniest bit off, you need to tell me.”

Jesse tried to look relaxed. “This feels targeted.”

“The roof did fall on you,” Taeyoung pointed out.

“I feel fine.”

“You’ll let me know if that changes?”

Would he? “Of course.”

Aaron Z. looked sceptical, but didn’t push any further.

“How bad do you reckon the earthquake was?”

“Reckon?” Aaron T. gaped. “You wanna add a yeehaw next time? A giddy up? You mistake Cali for Nashville?”

“Hey, what if we did something cowboy themed for the next album?” Taeyoung suggested, “Right at home for you Jesse.”

He rolled his eyes. “I don't think you have much room to make fun of the way I talk.”

“I reckon y’all didn't take the chickens out the barnyard. Giddy up, let's get a move on!” Aaron T. used the world’s worst southern accent. It probably couldn't even be classified as southern, definitely not to a specific area.

“You know you just made no sense, right?”

He glanced at Robaire so briefly that Jesse almost missed it. “Sorry a-boot that, just caught a load of beaver over by the igloo. Had to haul it home by moose.”

“C’est quoi ce bordel?” Robaire mumbled, “You’ve been to Vancouver, you know Canada isn't like that.”

“Vancouver isn't real.”

… Yes it is?

“Okay Aaron, whatever you say.”

“You sure he didn't hit his head or something?” Jesse checked.

“Unfortunately not.”

“Shame.”

“Hey!”

His earlier internal comment about headaches manifested into a real one. How convenient.

“Seriously though.” Robaire refocused the conversation. “That wasn't a small earthquake.”

“How damaged are the cassettes?” Taeyoung, the poor kid, had gone back to looking like a nervous wreck. “Our demos are all on there.”

Aaron T. grimaced. “Some of them are toast, but some look okay.”

It would be a shame to lose their demos. Jesse always had it in the back of his mind that they might release a special album or something with those original versions of their songs. It was something the fans would enjoy.

Their old agency would have shot the idea down immediately. If it wasn't profitable to the average teenage girl, it wasn't going to happen, and an album curated to what existing fans wanted to hear wasn't the way to get new fans.

He hated thinking of the 4*Townies like that, like they were people to be enticed, to become trapped in the fear of missing out and race to be the “best fan.” He especially hated that they were being used for profit. It frustrated him to no end. Every 4*Townie he’d met was, at their core, someone with a life equally as complex as his, he didn't want to take advantage of them!

It was a sure-fire way to make him think of his time at art school, specifically the professors he looked up to. There were some incredible artists there, people who cradled the emotions of the viewer and delicately reminded them that they are not alone.

It was never about the money for Jesse.

Maybe throwing something on the wheel would get rid of that still present burn to be doing something. Back when ceramics was part of his curriculum, it would do the trick.

He hoped the earthquake didn't make a mess of his studio. That would suck.

It was kinda cold. He found himself staring at where the roof had given out, trying to decide whether there was a breeze or not.

“Jesse?” Aaron Z. yanked him out of his thoughts.

“Hm?”

“You’re very spacey.”

Maybe he was. That wasn't uncommon after a horrible sleep. “Sorry.”

“No, no, you're good, just… making sure you're okay.”

“I'm okay.”

“You're a little pale,” Taeyoung fussed.

“Seriously, I'm fine.”

He didn't appear to be convincing anyone. Why did nobody ever believe him when he said he was okay? What a headache.

Right. His head actually hurt. Maybe it was time to retire that figure of speech.

“Any changes?” Aaron Z. prompted.

“I don't know, my head hurts? It's just because I’m tired.”

“Did it hurt earlier?”

No. “I don't know, does it matter? The roof didn't hit my head.”

He didn’t respond. Guilt twisted in Jesse’s chest, thick enough to cause actual pain. Of course Aaron would be stressed, it’s not like he’d had the best experience with people close to him and health. He really should be more considerate.

“What should I be paying attention to?”

“Numbness, abdominal pain…”

Jesse blinked, and Aaron Z. was done talking, watching him expectantly.

Oh. That… that probably wasn’t good.

“Was having trouble focusing on that list? Cause…”

“Jesse.”

“I really did sleep like shit.”

…

Taeyoung raised a hand to his cheek. “You’re cold.”

“There’s a draft, isn’t there?”

“No?”

Oh.

…

“Show me your back.” Aaron Z. had none of his signature stoicism.

“I don’t want to.”

Robaire and Aaron T. exchanged a glance that could only be described as frightened, but that was only barely visible.

…

His vision swam, when did it start swimming?

…

“Jesse?” Taeyoung shook him lightly, sending specks of light dancing around the room. Each one hurt as he became aware of them. “Hey, are you listening?”

“What?” He had to fight to make his mouth move.

…

What was happening? Why was it happening so fast? Was it actually happening as quick as it felt, or was he losing time? How much had he lost?

…

He heard bits of sentences.

“... internal bleeding.” That was Aaron Z.

And then Aaron T. “... be okay?”

Something crashed. He was lying on the floor. Taeyoung held him.

“...nose is bleeding.”

“What?”

…

All at once, he became a passive observer. It wasn’t anything close to an out-of-body experience, he struggled to hold onto the little awareness he’d been left with, but he certainly wasn’t grounded in any way.

He knew a lot of things. He knew Aaron Z. was giving instructions. He knew Taeyoung was following them. He knew Aaron T. had silently retreated, gripping himself so tightly Jesse worried his nails might break through his skin.

He especially knew Robaire was trying to move the cabinet.

He didn’t know how he knew. He certainly didn’t have any memory of seeing it happen. He just knew.

It happened so fast.

***

Turns out, his descent from perfectly aware to unconscious was a long and gruelling process for everybody except for Jesse. It was not fast at all.

He’d heard from his nurse that the boys reported the whole thing taking upwards of an hour. An hour.

That was a week ago though. He’d had plenty of time to process his injury, to recover from surgery, to find his footing back in his own brain in the comfort of his hospital room.

He wished he hadn’t done that last part.

Remember when he said that bad things happening sent him back to old habits? That fucking itch was worse than he’d felt in a long time.

He’d been trying to fend it off, he really had. His nurse brought him some paper, and he’d made a fretboard to practice with, but that wasn’t anywhere close to good enough. He needed to hear what his song was sounding like, how the melody he’d been toying with would be impacted by the guitar chords, whether his lyrics complimented the sound, paper just wasn’t doing it.

He needed to get back to work, he had so much to do. The earthquake was a wake-up call, a sign that he needed to get off his ass and work on this song before another natural disaster came to take him out.

This song was important.

It needed to be perfect.

He was going to be discharged in two days, but that wasn’t soon enough. The itch was stronger than any hunger or thirst. Satisfying it was more essential to him than breathing.

He needed to leave.

He needed to leave right now.

He poked his head out the door to his room, taking a moment to note where everyone was.

His room was close to the nurse’s station, where a surgeon and nurse he didn't recognize were chatting. Aside from them, the halls were eerily empty. One glance at the clock revealed it was a couple minutes after midnight.

The surgeon left, taking off down the hall at a brisk pace as their pager sounded off. Jesse approached the nurse’s station.

“What can I do for you?” The nurse was clearly distracted, fumbling through a daunting pile of paperwork.

“I’m going home.”

He stopped. “When is your discharge date?”

“The tenth.”

“That's not today.”

“I know.”

The nurse frowned, completely abandoning his task to give him his full attention. “Do your parents know you’re going home?”

“I'm twenty-two.”

“That wasn't what I asked.”

“No.” Why was this guy giving him a hard time? “I don't live with them though.”

“You got someone to pick you up?”

“I’m not asking for your permission, I just thought I should let someone know.”

The nurse gave him an unamused raise of the brows. “I'm not trying to stop you, kid. Just making sure you know what you're getting yourself into.”

He ran a hand through his hair. This was taking too long.

“Leaving against medical advice puts you at increased risk for-”

“Save it, I've heard it before.”

“This a pastime of yours?”

No, he just had a friend prone to injuries and spent too much time in a shitty company. “Just part of the industry.”

“Oh, an entertainer,” he said, “maybe I'll have heard of you by the next time you come in.”

Rude.

“Bye.”

As he turned to walk away, the nurse laughed. “Goodbye bigshot.”

There was supposed to be more than that. There was much more paperwork last time. He couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed at the nurse though, not when they were both equally impatient.

So what if it was negligence? It saved him time.

Once he was in the lobby, he stopped to think for a moment. Where was he going? The recording studio, right? That meant getting a ride to the agency’s main building.

He could call Robaire.

…But maybe calling a cab was the better idea.

Calling Robaire would mean going back to their apartment. The members would fuss over him, keep him from working, maybe even try to get him to go back. He needed to do work. If he didn't, there was a strong possibility he might explode.

So when he fished his phone out of his purse (he was sure his dad would roll his eyes if he knew his son was carrying a purse), he dialled the number for a cab, and made a beeline for the pickup area.

There were benches, but he didn't sit.

His cab arrived after the longest seven minutes of his life.

The drive was mostly spent in silence. At one point, the driver tried to make small talk.

“Nobody to bring you clothes?” He gave him a strange look. “Is that why you're still in the gown?”

Jesse just ignored him, watching the city pass by.

He was surprised to see how much damage the earthquake had done. Even a week later, old buildings were still taped off. Half the streetlights were dim, or dark altogether.

The most bizarre part was the contrast. By the time he got to the agency, he’d almost gotten used to seeing the burnt shell of a store next to the dusty, cracked rubble of a townhouse, and then turning the corner to see a row of newer builds that, thanks to their more stable base, looked untouched.

It snapped him out of his trance long enough to give the cab driver a sizable tip. He had a feeling extra cash meant a lot to people right then.

The agency was… well.

The outside looked pretty okay. A few of the windows were cracked, but structurally? It was definitely still a building.

The door was taped off. When he tried to open it, he found it was locked.

Great.

The sound of his phone ringing nearly sent his soul flying out of his body. He answered the call without thinking.

“Hello?”

“I'm going to give you ten seconds to tell me why you left the hospital.”

Ah. They must've called his emergency contacts. “I feel better.”

His sister sounded more entertained than anything. “Mom’s furious.”

“Tell her to call me herself next time.”

“She did one better,” his sister whispered, “called your home phone.”

He groaned.

“You should thank me, you’ve got like, a minute to figure out what you’re gonna say.”

He shut his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Thanks.”

“Good luck, stay safe, love you.”

“Love you too.”

He loved his sister, he really did. He loved his mom too. He certainly loved her more when she didn't snitch on him.

With his phone still in hand, he picked a new target, a smashed window on the second floor. Conveniently, there was already a ladder set up, one of the ones they stock around the building in case of a fire.

He climbed each rung carefully. He wasn't trying to hurt himself, after all, just get to the studio, just get his hands on a guitar, sit in a place that was completely isolated so he could come back to the world being worth something.

It was never about money. It was never about fame. He was in the position to do something good, and if that meant leaving the hospital early to work on a song that one, just one person could relate to?

His phone rang again.

Using one hand to hold the ladder, he answered.

“Jesse.”

“Hi Ro.”

His voice was fiery “You left the hospital?”

Great. He was mad. “I'm okay.”

“Go back.”

He took a step up. “No.”

“No? Jesse, you had surgery.”

“I feel fine.”

“So go back and wait.”

“I'm not going back.”

“Where are you?”

“Somewhere.”

“Somewhere safe?”

He climbed another rung. “There’s no one here, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It’s not.”

Jesse surrendered some of the tension from his shoulders. “I’m safe.”

He let out a frustrated sigh. “Just, come home.”

“Not yet.”

“Where could you possibly-”

He took the phone away from his ear to pull himself in through the window. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Are you climbing?”

“No.”

“Yes, you are.

“Not anymore. I'm a little busy, I'll call you back later.”

“Don't-”

He hung up. It was cheeky, childish even, but the studio was on the second floor, so he only really had a little bit more to walk.

His phone rang again. He ignored it.

The hallways were clear for the most part. Somebody definitely came in to clear them out.

He wasn't quite certain why the building was closed until he got to the entrance to the recording studio. The door was still blocked. Apparently, instead of clearing the pile of debris outside the door, the rescue team had opted to tear a hole through the wall. It had since been boarded up, but when he looked through the cracks, he found that even if he had a way in, there was no way anything productive was happening in that room.

The guitar was long gone, impaled by the mic stand. The foam padding lay strewn about in the booth, but the roof tile was the main event, taking up a majority of the floor space in its almost apocalyptic glory.

Okay, maybe he understood a little bit of why the boys were so on him. He wasn't exactly the first to offer up information about his well-being. The roof falling on him might have been something to worry about. He certainly would worry if it fell on any of them.

The rest of the studio didn't fare any better, in fact, it was significantly worse. The cabinet was the most prominent feature. It hadn't moved, and still blocked the door between the booth and the rest of the studio. Cassette reels covered the entire floor. It would have been impossible to walk without crushing any.

A shiver ran through him. That cabinet was definitely heavier than the roof tile. If it had hit Taeyoung…

He pushed away a wave of anxiety. It didn't hit him. They were all okay.

… He wanted to go home.

But that wasn't happening, right? He had to get into the studio, he had to use the guitar, it was a need.

He pulled at the boards. They didn't move.

The guitar was still very much smashed anyway.

It was so frustrating that he could tear his hair out. He backed into the wall, sliding down it as a few, baffled laughs raked through his body.

Of course. Of course he couldn't get in. What was he thinking?

What was he thinking?

Seriously, what did he think was going to happen?

It was unbearable.

It was hysterical.

He couldn't stop laughing.

His phone rang again, and he laughed harder.

Of course the one day his disease was more than just an itch, more than something manageable, was also the one day he couldn't do anything about it.

Why did he think any of this was a good idea anyway? For just a moment, he remembered why he called it a disease. This wasn't good for him. He had a problem.

It was a problem that he’d come here. It was a problem that he’d put work before his well-being. It was a problem that he didn't give himself the proper time to recover.

It was a problem. He had a problem.

He was imperfect. At his core, he was flawed. He was never going to live up to that God-forsaken itch, because the itch itself kept him from scratching it, and sitting, facing the remains of their recording studio, laughing harder than he’d laughed in years, he finally understood that.

It was the rawest pain he’d ever felt.

His phone rang again. He ignored it.

He couldn't breathe. Each laugh tore the oxygen from the deepest parts of his lungs.

His phone rang again.

And it rang.

And he picked it up.

“Jesse?” It was Taeyoung this time. “Where are you?”

He held a hand over the mic to try and muffle his laughter.

“Are you okay? Jesse?”

“I'm, yeah.”

“Where are you?”

No point in hiding it now. “The agency.”

Taeyoung suddenly sounded further away. “He’s at the agency.”

“Who’s with you?”

“T.”

He took a deep breath. “Hi, Aaron.”

“Jesse says hi.”

Very distantly, he heard. “Put him on speaker.”

“You’re on speaker now.”

“Hi Aaron,” Jesse repeated.

“Hi, Jesse.” Aaron T. responded with the tiniest hint of playfulness. “I'm gonna slap you for giving Robaire a reason to wake me up at twelve-thirty.”

He managed to get the laughter down to a chuckle. “Don't pretend you weren't still up.”

“I wasn't,” Taeyoung complained, “whatcha doing at the agency anyway?”

He took a moment to formulate a response. “No comment.”

“He's worse than you.” Taeyoung groaned. “Wah wah, I'm Jesse, and I left the hospital early to go take care of unfinished business at the agency.”

“Nobody is worse than Aaron.” Jesse crossed his arms. “He would've just left without telling anyone.”

“I'm right here. Hey fucker, signal when you change lanes next time!”

“You left without telling anyone.”

“I told a nurse.”

“A nurse? Not your nurse?”

“If you keep asking questions, I'll hang up and go somewhere else.”

Aaron T. gasped. “How’d you know we were on the way?”

“Because you’re swearing at other cars. They let you two go alone together?”

“You have Robaire so stressed he forgot to tell us not to.”

Maybe he shouldn't have been so vague with Robaire.

“I'm sorry-” he started.

“It's just good to hear from you.”

“Yeah,” Taeyoung added, “I mean, we’ve all done this Jess, the breakdown thing, we’ve all gone and done stupid things and worried each other. The apology is nice, but I forgave you as soon as you picked up.”

“I second that,” Aaron T. said, “It would be very hypocritical for me to be mad anyway, I nearly fucked up an entire performance because of an injury.”

Taeyoung teased. “Didn’t you also freak him out that one time? On our first tour?”

Ah yes. The hitchhiking.

“Don't get me started on that, oh my fucking God it’s not your fucking right of way!”

“Jesse?”

In all honesty, he was still processing what was just said to him. Everybody in the group had done this, sure, but it felt completely different when it was him.

Taeyoung tried again. “You still there?”

“Yeah…” He trailed off.

“We’re like, two blocks away, hang tight.”

“Hanging tight.”

“Are you inside?”

“I'm by the studio.”

“Oh.”

Yeah, that was about the reaction he was expecting.

“Did you climb through the window?” Aaron T. asked. Jesse could practically see the surprise on his bandmate’s face.

“Do you see another way in?”

“No?”

“I'll see you soon.”

“Wait-”

He put the phone down. What could he say? He had a flair for the dramatic after all. Really, it was just because he needed time to decide how honest he was going to be.

More laughter started to bubble. He’d much rather cry than laugh. At least when he was crying, his reaction was normal. The laughing was just weird.

He laughed anyway. He kept laughing as Taeyoung and Aaron T. appeared at the end of the hall.

“The wall come alive and tell a joke?” Aaron T. jogged over to sit in front of him, Taeyoung close behind. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s not,” he said as soon as he found the spare air, “it’s not funny.”

“Breathe,” Taeyoung soothed, “slow down, tell us what’s happening.”

“The guitar is smashed.”

“Huh?”

“I came all this way, and the guitar is smashed.”

They exchanged a glance.

Aaron T. wrapped his cardigan around Jesse’s shoulders. “I’m not following.”

“I’m just.” He focused on breathing. Then, with a smile, he said, “It’s nothing.”

Taeyoung’s expression grew firm. “I love you Jess, but you can’t seriously think we’re gonna believe you’re okay, right? Look at you.”

He was a mess, he knew that.

But he could pretend he wasn’t. He could live in that fantasy for just a little longer, right?

Everyone knew it was a lie, but that was a problem for later.

“I’m okay,” he insisted, “I left because I’m okay.”

“You haven’t been okay though, not since the plate.”

He scoffed, “No shit, there was an earthquake.”

Aaron T. huffed. “Don’t act like you don’t know what we’re talking about.”

“I…”

Who was he kidding?

“Do you think things would be better if I wasn’t in the band?”

The question caught both Taeyoung and Aaron T. off guard, hell, it caught Jesse off guard too.

Aaron T. answered fast, “No.”

“We’re not 4*Town without you.” Taeyoung agreed.

“There’s something wrong with me, I can’t, there’s, it doesn’t go away, it, I don’t know, I can’t make it go away, and then I do this instead, and it’s not productive.”

“Hey, hey.” Taeyoung cupped his cheek. He leaned into it. “This isn’t about productive, okay? It never has been. You being in the band isn’t about what you can produce, it’s so much more than that.”

That wasn’t entirely true. He was a product. He always had been.

He was a product of his parents, a reflection of them that they worked so hard to curate. He was a product of their agency, and even though they pretended he wasn’t an object to toy with, everybody involved knew he was.

His value came from the things he was able to do.

He couldn’t say that though, because he knew it wasn’t a healthy thought pattern. The last thing he wanted to do was make the people closest to him feel even half as miserable as he felt right then.

“I’m sorry.”

Neither Aaron T. nor Taeyoung were happy with that.

“Can we go home? I think… I think I need to be away from here.”

“Of course.” Taeyoung helped him up. “Anything you need, we’re at your service.”

Aaron T. saluted. “To the car, Jesse sir!”

“Don’t call me sir.” They made their way down the hall.

“What would you prefer, sweetheart? Babygirl? Apple of my eye?”

He rolled his eyes. “None of those.”

“Go easy on him, he has a crush on you, remember?”

“Oh yes.” Aaron T. nodded. “I’m going to be very sad if you shut down my pet names.”

He was trying to fluster him, an adorable effort. “If this is you trying to make the first move, you’re gonna have to try harder than that.”

“I’d like to see you do better.”

“Oh really?” Jesse raised a brow. “Wasn’t it you who wrote a whole verse about how irresistible I am?”

He flushed. “I didn’t write that! It just happened.”

“You’re pretty when you blush.”

Aaron T. tripped over his feet. “What?”

“I think he just short-circuited.” Taeyoung giggled.

Jesse used the small triumph to ignore his problems. “Told you.”

“That's the real reason you’re in the band, to call me pretty.”

“Sure thing, lover boy.”

Taeyoung grew one of his signature devious smiles, and leaned closer to Aaron T. “You’ve always been beautiful, Aaron.”

“Whoa, okay, let's calm down.”

Jesse fought back a smile as they climbed back down the ladder.

“Uh, hey Tae, do you see the car?”

Taeyoung halted, and looked over his shoulder. “No, did we get rear-ended or something?”

“It's gone.”

Jesse couldn't decide if this was funny or not. “Did you park in a tow zone?”

“Maybe..?”

The trio dismounted the ladder.

“Did we even park?” Taeyoung ran a hand through his hair. “I genuinely can't remember parking.”

Aaron T. patted his pockets. “Ah.”

“What?”

“I, ha ha.”

Jesse blinked slowly. “Aaron.”

“I don't have the keys. I think I might have left them in the car.”

Which meant the car never got locked.

Which meant someone had definitely stolen it.

“Don't look at me like that!” He raised his hands. “I was worried about you!”

“Worry about yourself, you’re calling Ro.”

“Don't make me.”

“You got our car stolen.”

Taeyoung nodded. “You got our car stolen.”

“Unfair! You can't gang up on me like that!”

“Good luck.”

“What if we just call our manager, have them come pick us up.”

Jesse crossed his arms. “You don't think Robaire and Z. are gonna notice that the car is missing?”

“They took the one we usually use, they might not.”

“They will.”

He whined. “Do I have to?”

Taeyoung gave him a supportive rub on the shoulder. “Put it on speaker.”

“You're my hero.”

“I'm not defending you, I just want to hear everything.”

“Hey! You didn't lock the car either.”

“I wasn't driving.”

“Fine, fine fine fine.” He pulled his phone out and sighed. “Here goes nothing.”

It rang twice before Robaire picked up.

“Is he okay? Where are you?”

“Wow.” Aaron T. put a hand on his hip. “No hi? No hello for the man who just rescued Jesse 4*Town?”

“Rescued?”

“There was no rescuing.” Jesse corrected. “Hi Ro.”

He already sounded less tense. “Thank God.”

“Sorry for… that.”

“We’ll talk about it later, are you okay?”

“I'm fine.”

“You said that last time.”

Yikes. “I have witnesses.”

“He’s safe,” Taeyoung said, “fine is another story, but he’s not like, bleeding out or anything.”

“Okay, okay. We’ll see you at home then?”

Jesse joined Taeyoung in giving Aaron T. a pointed stare.

“Actually, funny story.”

“What now?”

“We don't have a car.”

“...”

The silence was suffocating.

“What?”

“Ha ha?”

“What happened to the car, Aaron?” Aaron Z. must've taken the phone.

“We think someone stole it.”

“How’d you manage that?”

“Take a guess.”

“We’ll come get you. Where are you?”

“The agency.”

“...”

Jesse was starting to really dislike silences.

“Do I wanna know?”

“Yeah, you probably do,” Taeyoung said, “Hi Z., I miss you.”

“Hi Tae. We’ll be there in five.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Jesse said.

***

“You left the keys in the car?”

“Look.” Aaron T. avoided eye contact with the intimidating front seat duo by staring out the window. “...yeah I got nothing.”

Robaire made brief eye contact with Jesse through the rearview mirror. “It seriously baffles me that the three of you make such bad decisions. I can't decide who the dumbest is.”

Aaron Z. didn't miss a beat. “It's Jesse.”

“No, yeah, it's Jesse.”

He sank further into the seat. “I'm sorry.”

“Tell me again why you left against medical advice?”

“Old habits die hard?”

Aaron T.’s eyes flicked over to him.

“You chose to leave this time, that’s different,” Robaire said.

“Don’t be too hard on him,” Aaron T. vouched.

He loosened a little. “I'm not trying to be hard, I'm not mad.”

From the way everyone was insisting they weren’t angry, he was starting to think maybe they should be.

“Can we go back to T. losing the car?” Taeyoung raised his hand.

“You lost it too.”

“I wasn’t driving!”

“You were in the car.”

“I was distracted.”

“So was I!”

He let the bickering fade behind the whir of his own thoughts. As the city passed, he found himself trying to gauge where each member was at. To an outsider, the car would appear to hold three grumpy boy band members, and two that had a little too much energy, but he knew them better than that.

Taeyoung was putting on the most convincing act, but behind the smiles and the giggling were the worried glances. Aaron T. was similar, but from the clasp of his hands to how straight he was sitting up, it was clear this whole situation was making him anxious. The stolen car probably only added to that.

Aaron Z. was the hardest to read. He carried himself with patience, turning every once and a while to signal to the T Line to keep it down, but that was almost too normal.

Maybe he was overthinking it. He was probably overthinking it.

That left Robaire, who he also struggled to read. It wasn't until he got out of the car, put an arm around Jesse’s waist, and walked inside with him, that Jesse clued in.

Robaire had guessed.

He knew.

***

To place credit where it was due, Robaire didn't bring up the leaving early thing, nor the reason why he’d left the hospital early for the first couple of days after.

Did it make him a little bit paranoid? Maybe, but there was better news! That stupid itch, the driving factor of this whole fiasco, had abandoned him until the next time he inevitably was mildly inconvenienced.

His actual discharge date passed, and with no complications, he found himself with a little bit too much free time. Earthquakes do that to a city. Everything was on pause while things got up and running again.

Apparently, he made the news. The public affairs team let him know that the fans were very worried about him, and sent him kind wishes, at least according to the massive influx of fan mail. The letters currently stood piled on their dining room table, all pre-read to make sure nothing disturbing got through.

Things simmered down with the other members too. Since he was genuinely, actually feeling better, they stopped fussing.

Well, okay. He was still technically recovering physically, so there was some fussing, but there were no more questions about why he’d been acting off.

Somehow, he’d managed to have one of the worst days of his life, and come out of it perfectly fine. He hadn't even had to talk about it.

It was a little too good to be true.

He was never going to complain about things turning out better than expected though. Like most days off, he had ample time to sit behind a wheel, throw some clay, and let his fingers do the thinking.

His pottery studio was far enough from the epicentre of the earthquake to appear untouched, thank God. He couldn't imagine how much damage would have been caused if something had shattered the windows. He loved his studio. Stepping in, smelling the clean air, admiring how the sunlight hit the wheel, it was all a part of the magic.

The theme of the day was apparently bowls, because Jesse had already made three of them, only pausing to wedge more clay.

He didn't look up when he heard the door open and shut.

“Hey.”

“You've been busy.” It was Robaire, to nobody's surprise.

“Want a bowl?”

He took a seat, just barely visible out of the corner of Jesse’s eye. “I've been thinking we need a new set.”

Jesse chuckled. “I wasn't actually gonna fire these up, but if you can think of anyone who needs one, I’ll happily get 'em some glaze.”

“Yeah? I’ll ask around.”

“I was thinking about making dishes to donate, since, y’know, earthquake, but I kinda just want to create.”

“You deserve time off to fuck around.” Robaire nodded. “It’s good to hear you're taking it.”

Satisfied with how incorporated his clay was, he made his way back over to the wheel. “You wanna throw something?”

“No thanks.” He smiled lopsidedly. “Clean hands.”

Jesse hummed. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

They sat in an easy silence together for a while. He started the next bowl, taking extra care to make sure his clay was completely centred before pulling the walls.

“You ever think about leaving to do art?” Robaire asked suddenly.

“You ever think about going solo?”

“Touché, guess not.”

“Mhm.” He dipped a hand in his trusty water bucket, and used the extra moisture to help shape the inside of the bowl.

“Why’d you go to the agency?”

Ah yes. There was the Robaire he knew and loved.

“To work on a song.”

“After the earthquake?”

“Yup.”

Robaire pulled his stool closer. “That's…”

“Trust me, I know.” He pulled the edges higher, using one hand inside and bowl and the other on the out to maintain an even thickness. “I'm not proud of it.”

“I'm not gonna lie, I thought all of that was left at the old agency.”

“I was born with it.” He would’ve shrugged if he wasn't focused. “S’always gonna come back.”

Robaire went quiet for a moment. Jesse worked on the rim.

“When it does come back, how can I help?”

That was… a good, surprising? A surprising question. “Uh…”

“You don't have to answer right now, just, you could have gotten really hurt, and nobody wants that.”

“No, I just, I’ve never really thought about that before.”

“Getting help?”

“How to help.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Most of the time, I can talk myself through it,” he admitted, “but this was one of the worst episodes I’ve ever had. When it's really bad, I get stubborn as fuck.”

“No kidding.” Robaire watched as Jesse went back in to adjust the shape. “That was what had everyone scared, you completely shut down.”

He nodded. “Still sorry by the way.”

“What exactly is it, if you don't mind sharing?”

Oh. Right. “Sometimes, I get stuck in this feeling, like, of needing to stop wasting time, get something done and do it well, y’know? But no amount of work makes it go away, it just… passes on its own.”

“Which is why you left the hospital early.”

“Exactly.”

“Wow.”

Jesse took his eyes off his project for a moment. “Usually it’s not that intense.”

“What about at the old agency? When you were sneaking out?”

“It never went away,” he said, “I didn't want it to. It made me good.”

“It made you sick.”

A smile played at the corner of his lips. “I know that now.”

There was another break. Another easy silence.

“Since you were a kid, huh?”

“Since I was a kid.”

“Is that why you took up ceramics?”

“Kinda.” He leaned back to get a better look at the shape. “I liked that there was no expectation. Pottery is so personal that way, you know? It’s crafted with the earth and your hands. Every piece I’ve seen that stuck with me has so much personality, and that’s celebrated. It doesn't matter if this bowl doesn't look exactly like the others I make, it doesn't matter if it’s flawed, because that’s part of the beauty.”

It was something he wanted to believe about himself too. He was working on it. Feeling that way about the bowl in his hands was only the first step.

Robaire just watched as he scooped some water onto the wheel, and used his wire to separate the bowl from the metal. Jesse placed it carefully on a wooden board, placed it aside, and grabbed another piece of freshly wedged clay.

“I'll try to let you know next time,” Jesse decided, “Just in case. It always starts manageable.”

“I’d…” He paused. “Thanks.”

He raised a brow. “I should be thanking you.”

With a goofy grin, he said, “I'm all ears.”

“I don't want to anymore.” He rolled his eyes.

“You can thank me by not hanging up after I get a call that you left the hospital without telling anyone.”

“The hospital staff knew I left.”

“Please call me next time, or better yet, don't leave.”

“If I called you, you would’ve made me come home.”

He tilted his head a little. “Yeah?”

“I didn't leave the hospital because I wanted to go home. I left because I needed to work.”

“Oh.” It finally clicked for Robaire. “Wow.”

“But I'll try, I really will.”

“For the record, I'd much rather go with you when you make bad decisions than know absolutely nothing about where you are.”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course.”

“Hm.” The idea of having Robaire, or any of the boys with him at the agency made the memory of his… escapade a little less difficult to look back on.

Taeyoung and Aaron T. showing up did take him out of the worst of it.

“I think… I think I'll take you up on that. You might have to remind me why it’s a good idea though.”

He smiled. “Whatever you need.”

Jesse found himself smiling too. “You’re a good friend.”

He chuckled. “If only you knew how easy it is to care about you.”

He almost faltered. He had steady enough hands not to, but it was close.

“No sappy shit when I'm making bowls, you almost messed it up.”

“I almost messed it up?” Uh oh. “My hands are all the way over here.”

“You know.”

Robaire dismounted the stool to stand behind him, resting his chin on the top of Jesse’s head. “I know.”

“You sure you don't want to give it a shot? I haven't really started this one yet.”

“What was all that up and down for then?”

“Centering the clay.”

He hesitated. “Okay.”

Jesse brightened. “Really?”

“But I have no clue what I'm doing so you’re really gonna have to help.”

“Of course.” He stepped away from the wheel, and let Robaire take his spot. “You’re gonna want a bit of water on your hands.”

They stayed at the studio until the natural light stopped hitting the pottery wheel. Evidently, Robaire’s bowl was the only one he planned to fire, in all its wonky, uneven, and charming glory. They joked about making it their dining table’s new centrepiece once Jesse made it through the fan mail.

Part of him wondered if he would've been so receptive to Robaire’s questions and suggestions if he hadn't been in his pottery studio. It didn't really matter though, did it? They’d made headway, and they’d made it together.

It was almost overwhelming, having to lean on something that wasn't himself, but it was also connective. Whether he liked it or not, Jesse could no longer ignore that he needed his bandmates. They made him whole. They made him the best version of himself.

As scary as that was, he trusted that they weren't going anywhere. No matter how bad the day, nor how far the fall, he would always have them.

That was the only definition of perfect he needed.

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