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I haven’t really gone back home, the last time I went home was before I-LAND”
…..
“so u could say, it’s been about 5 or 6 years since I’ve gone back”
….
“or maybe 6 or 7 years—my room might not even be there (nomo)…”
⸻
After some time, he ended the live. The air around him shifted, heavier now than when he started. He suddenly felt drained, the kind of exhaustion that seeped into the bones. He wouldn’t even pretend to not know why - and it wasn’t the fans’ fault either. They were just curious.
Still, regret sat heavy in his chest as he remembered that one comment. The words clung to him like a weight, pressing on the thoughts he had been desperately trying to ignore day after day for years. Now, those same thoughts came crashing down all at once, relentless.
What do they say? The more you try to run away from your problems, the faster they catch you?
He was tired of running.
The hate he’d been getting didn’t make it easier. People claimed he had been slacking on stage, that his moves had gotten lazy, that now that he was famous, he didn’t care anymore.
But the truth was the opposite. He cared too much.
What else could he do? He had left his home as a kid and never returned. He couldn’t even remember the last time he hugged his mom, went shopping with his dad, or danced with his sisters. The memories felt faded, as if they belonged to someone else.
Sometimes he wondered if his room back home still existed - or if it had been turned into something else, stripped of the pieces of him that once lived there.
His parents missed him. His sisters missed him. And he missed them too - so much that it ached.
But what was he supposed to do? The company wouldn’t give them a break. Their next comeback was already scheduled for next month, and they were still stuck in the middle of their Europe tour. It wasn’t just him who was tired - he knew that. They were all exhausted, all targeted with hate for the smallest things, all pushed to the edge of breakdown.
And even if it was bad, it was also the only thing that kept him accountable - knowing that his members were going through the same hell alongside him.
He remembered I-Land, how happy they were when they finally debuted as a group together. How their smiles lit up the room when they realized their suffering had paid off. Back then, they thought the worst was over, that they had endured the hardest part. What they didn’t know was that it was only the beginning. Nobody warned them that it would just keep getting harder.
He wished he had known. He wished his younger self had known. Maybe then he would have hugged his mom a little longer, gone on one more shopping trip with his dad, danced one more silly dance with his sisters.
Since debut, there had been no rest. They drilled themselves to perfection until it became second nature - repeating one move until it flowed like breathing.
And when it came to dancing, Ni-ki was the one who craved perfection most. He reached for it even when his body screamed at him to stop, even when he pushed himself far past his limits.
The whole world was watching them. Every move, every mistake. You could be flawless for months, but all of it meant nothing if you slipped once. He had learned that the hard way.
Missing his family, his hometown, feeling homesick - that was nothing new. It was a weight he always carried with him, no matter how much time passed. He never really adjusted to the loneliness.
At the beginning, when he was much younger, he found comfort in the members. They were the closest thing he had to a family, and they tried their best for him. They did everything they could, despite being young themselves and struggling with the same emptiness.
Sometimes, though, their efforts weren’t enough. They couldn’t always fill the hollow ache in his chest. On those nights - he went to Sunoo.
He would gently shake him awake, whispering his name with a low voice so the others wouldn’t stir. And when Sunoo opened his half-lidded eyes, he wouldn’t question it. He’d just look at him for a second, then quietly scoot over, making space. Riki never thought twice before slipping into that space, sinking into the warmth beside him.
The next morning, they never spoke about it. They didn’t need to.
That first time turned into another, and another, until it became something regular. So regular, that sometimes Sunoo would already be lying on one side of the bed, leaving space open just in case. Most nights, that space was filled.
After a while, it wasn’t only homesickness that drove them together. At first it was, but soon both of them knew it wasn’t always the reason anymore. Still, they never spoke of it. Words weren’t necessary - the silence between them built a safe air they could breathe in.
For Riki, Sunoo was that safe air. Being near him made it easier to breathe, as if the atmosphere shifted the moment he was close. Everything felt lighter, despite how unbearably heavy life had become.
But then the hate grew so overwhelming that it even broke that fragile safety. What they had began to change.
Sure, they grew up, got older - but not everything could be blamed on age, no matter how much they wanted it to.
And so now, it had been four, almost five years since he had been home. Both homes. The one in Japan, and the one in Sunoo’s arms. he was homesick.
That night he didn’t sleep.
____
The next morning came, and the group gathered at the breakfast buffet in their hotel. Plates clattered, voices overlapped, and laughter echoed lightly across the table as they talked about their plans for the day before heading to the venue. From the outside, it looked like a group of boys enjoying their morning together, joking and chatting as if nothing could touch them.
But Ni-ki wasn’t part of that picture.
He sat at the corner of the table, shoulders slumped, his spoon slowly stirring through the porridge in front of him. He had been picking at it for nearly thirty minutes, never actually eating, just watching the pale mixture swirl in circles.
The lack of sleep weighed on him like chains. His eyelids felt heavy, his entire body screaming for rest, begging him to just collapse right there at the table. But he couldn’t. Not here, not now.
The night had been merciless. Cruel in the way only sleepless nights could be. His body was drained from the endless travel - city to city, country to country, no pause long enough to catch his breath - but his mind refused to quiet down. It worked against him, dragging him into thoughts he didn’t want, whispering truths he tried every day to deny.
Truths about himself. About his place in all of this. About how tired he really was.
“What about you, Riki?”
The sudden voice pulled him out of his haze. Jungwon’s voice - steady, careful, laced with that quiet concern he always carried when looking at him.
Ni-ki blinked, raising his head slowly. The group’s eyes were on him now, waiting. He glanced down at his untouched bowl, then back up, eyebrows raising slightly as if he’d missed the entire conversation - which, in truth, he had.
“Sorry—” his voice came out rough, heavier than intended. “Didn’t catch that.”
Jungwon hesitated, watching him for a moment before repeating the question, softer this time.
“I was asking where you’re going after breakfast.”
Ni-ki’s lips parted, but no words came at first. His mind felt sluggish, like it needed extra time to process even simple questions. Finally, he mumbled, eyes dropping back to his food as if it could shield him.
“Oh… uhm… I don’t know. Probably just stay in the hotel room.” His spoon scraped against the edge of the bowl again, stirring without purpose.
“What? No way.” Jake’s voice was loud, jolting the table into laughter as his eyes widened dramatically. “We only have limited time to do whatever we want, and you want to waste it staying in?”
“Yeah,” Jay chimed in with a teasing grin, elbow propped on the table. “Besides, staying in is Sunoo’s thing.”
“Not true!” Sunoo protested instantly, his palm smacking against Jay’s shoulder with a sharp slap. His pout was quick to form, eyes narrowed, but Jay’s teasing expression didn’t falter. The table chuckled at the familiar exchange.
But Sunghoon leaned in, smirking. “No, Jay’s right. Riki, stop being a copycat. Come with me to the gym instead.”
Sunoo rolled his eyes at that, though the corners of his lips curved, playing along with the banter. They all knew his habits well. Sunoo liked to rest when he could - his version of recharging. Sometimes he got teased for it, but it was always playful, because they understood. Or at least, they thought they did.
And Ni-ki knew too. He knew Sunoo’s patterns, maybe more than anyone. He knew how much Sunoo valued those quiet hours to himself.
Still… sometimes it stung.
Because there were moments when Sunoo had brushed off everyone, claiming he was too tired to go out, only for Riki to later find out that he had gone out anyway - meeting up with a friend, laughing in photos that surfaced later. Sunoo always said it was spontaneous, unplanned. Maybe it really was.
But the feeling it left in Riki didn’t disappear. That little pinch in his chest - unsettling, uncomfortable, something he couldn’t name.
He wanted to ignore it, tell himself it didn’t matter. That things changed, that people changed. But even as he sat there, stirring porridge he couldn’t bring himself to eat, surrounded by his members’ laughter, the uneasiness lingered.
And he couldn’t shake it off.
____
It was only a few hours left before all the members would have to meet back in the lobby to get into their vans and head to the show.
After breakfast, Riki made sure to disappear quickly into his room, avoiding the others before they could ask him anything. Since then, he hadn’t stepped outside once. He had tried to sleep, but it was useless. His mind wandered too much, sinking into places that only dragged him deeper into thoughts he didn’t want to face.
He tried exercising in his room, hoping the movement would help, but it didn’t - his mind was too fast, too loud, leaving him lost in his own head before his body could catch up.
He tried watching shows, but that didn’t help either.
No gaming, no scrolling through online shops, not even watching their latest performance could distract him.
Finally, he tried to dance, thinking that maybe practice would calm him down. But it only made him feel worse. The comments about his dancing replayed in his mind, each one echoing louder with every step. Once, dancing had been his only safe place - his escape, his coping mechanism. Now, sometimes it felt like the very thing he needed to escape from too.
Sweating from the movements and drowning in nervous thoughts, he decided to take a shower before the show.
As the low stream of warm water hit his skin, he took a deep breath, closing his eyes as memories came back uninvited.
He thought about when they all used to share one dorm - the chaos of all of them fighting for the shower. Jungwon always ended up last. He took the longest showers, and no one bothered to argue with him about it anymore. Sunoo, though, always wanted to go first. He hated feeling dirty for long, hated it in a way that seemed written into him. Even then, he never took very long, but if Sunoo was supposed to go first, the younger would slip in before he could.
Riki didn’t need to shower first. He could handle being dirty for a bit. He only did it for the joy of seeing his hyung come out of the bathroom pointing at him, annoyed and dramatic.
Jake had been right all along - Sunoo was the cutest when he was annoyed.
Riki was just reaching for the soap when he heard a knock outside his bedroom, followed by the soft click of someone entering. Probably room cleaning, he thought.
“Ni-ki?”
Not room cleaning. That voice was one he could recognize from miles away.
“Sunoo?” He turned down the water, tilting his head to hear better.
“It’s Sunoo hyung. and yeah, it’s me.”
“What are you doing here? How’d you even come in?” Riki asked, suspicion coloring his voice.
“I took Jungwonie’s spare card for all the rooms.”
“Okay… why?” The question came sharper than he intended. Why would Sunoo leave his own resting time, go through the effort of finding that spare card, just to come here?
“Well - um…” Sunoo hesitated, tripping over his words. “I noticed you zoned out during breakfast. And… lately you’ve been doing that a lot. So I thought maybe… maybe you’re having trouble sleeping? Correct me if I’m wrong, but… I still got something for you.”
Riki heard the faint rustle of a plastic bag, something being pulled out of it.
“It’s sleeping pills. Only take one a day, just in case, you know—”
“I don’t have sleeping problems, hyung.” Riki’s voice came out rougher than he meant, defensive.
A small silence stretched between them before Sunoo spoke again, softer this time.
“Okay. Just in case.”
“I don’t—”
“Ni-ki.” His tone cut in, serious now. “It’s just in case.”
Riki didn’t respond. The sound of water dripping against his skin filled the silence instead. A moment later, he heard soft footsteps walking away.
“Hyung—”
The footsteps stopped.
“Why do you have these?” Riki asked carefully, a knot of worry tightening in his chest.
For a second, silence again - long enough that Riki wondered if Sunoo had left. But then:
“I used to struggle sleeping too,” Sunoo admitted quietly. “Sometimes… I still do. So I just carry them around - you know, like with my vitamins.” His tone lightened at the end, an obvious attempt to play it off.
When the door shut afterwards, Riki’s mind shifted.
Sunoo used to struggle with sleep too? Just like he did whenever the homesickness swallowed him whole? But… he never looked like it, not when they used to share a bed. Could it be that Sunoo needed him just as much as Riki had needed him?
____
The car was filled with the hum of low-toned music from the radio, the golden sun starting to scatter itself across the sky as it dipped lower.
The maknae line was in one car, while the hyungs rode behind them in another.
Riki sat in the middle. To his right, Jungwon was leaning into his phone, deeply focused on a game, his fingers moving with practiced swiftness. To his left, Sunoo stared out the window, occasionally lifting his phone to snap a picture for Weverse. But most of the time, he looked less like he was looking at the road and more like he was zoning out, lost in thoughts no one else could touch.
They hadn’t exchanged a single word since the lobby. Riki had planned to thank him for the pills, but the words wouldn’t leave his mouth. He was too tired to talk.
In fact, he was too tired to even feel present anymore. He really shouldn’t have taken that pill right after his warm shower.
Now he felt drained, heavier than expected. He hadn’t thought they would actually work, but the thought of Sunoo needing them - of Sunoo carrying them around because he once felt the same kind of loneliness at night - had been too much. He wanted to understand what Sunoo went through. So he tried. And now, he could barely keep his eyes open.
He had already drifted off for fifteen minutes at the hotel before Jungwon blew up his phone, telling him to hurry down. Panic and fatigue tangled together as he threw on the clothes he had thankfully laid out earlier. His body felt sluggish, but he forced himself down to the lobby.
The stares he got from the members said everything - he looked as tired as he felt. But before anyone could question him, Yuki, their manager, ushered them toward the vans.
Now, in the warmth of the car, with the low music and the fading sunlight, his body finally gave up. His eyelids drooped closed, and seconds later, his head tilted to the left. A wave of comfort washed over him the moment he made contact with something warm.
The air shifted, softening into something safer. The smell of the car faded, replaced by something more familiar, something that felt like home.
Instinctively, he leaned closer, letting his body give in completely. Sleep pulled him under, deeper than it had in weeks.
The next time he opened his eyes, Jungwon’s voice was waking him gently.
“Wake up, Riki. The others are already in the green room. Come on, you can rest there.”
Blinking against the haze, Riki realized the car was no longer moving. His head was tilted to the right now - strange, because he could’ve sworn he had been leaning to the left before. He also felt unsettled, like he hadn’t woken up in the same position he had fallen asleep in.
Still, too tired to question it, he only nodded at Jungwon’s soft voice.
At the green room, he remained half-asleep, everything around him blurring together. The short ride hadn’t been nearly enough. It felt like a dream, not reality, his body begging him for more rest.
Usually, even when he was tired, the adrenaline of performance brought him back, locking him into focus. But not today. Maybe it was the pill. Maybe it was the way he had fallen asleep. Either way, his body craved more - more of that warmth, more of that safe air, more of the sleep that didn’t leave him restless when he woke.
Half-lidded, his eyes scanned the room. The members were scattered around, each finding their own spot. And then his gaze caught on one figure.
Sunoo.
He was half-lying on the couch, back propped against the cushions, legs stretched across the rest of the seat, eyes locked on his phone.
Riki’s body moved before his mind caught up. Without hesitation, without thought, he walked toward him. Standing in front of Sunoo, he didn’t wait for permission. He just leaned forward, letting his body rest on top of Sunoo’s, head burying itself against his stomach, arms wrapping around his small waist. His eyes closed instantly. This - this was the same warmth he had felt in the car.
Sunoo froze, shocked, staring down at the younger draped across him.
But then he saw Riki’s face - the exhaustion carved into every line of it. The way his body seemed to surrender completely, trusting him. And Sunoo’s heart ached.
Carefully, he lifted a hand, resting it on top of Riki’s head. Then, in slow, tender motions, he let his fingers comb through the younger’s hair, soothing him until his own body relaxed again.
He could feel the eyes of the other members on them. He knew they were watching, some even staring outright. But none of them said a word.
____
The concert ended successfully for the group. Another sold-out stadium had gotten their money’s worth, the crowd roaring until the very last second. For the others, the energy was exhilarating, something that fueled them. But for Riki, it was a relief more than anything else.
The loud crowd drowned out the noise in his head. The cheering, the lights, the rehearsed steps - they left him no space to think. No space to feel anything but the rhythm that carried him through. After falling asleep in the car earlier and then another hour on top of his hyung in the green room, the sleep he had been craving finally settled into his bones. His body could move with full energy again, his stage presence sharp, almost as if nothing had been wrong.
But when Ni-ki woke up back then, before the show, the first thing he noticed was the empty room. The second thing was the soft hand combing through his hair, and the warm body under him.
Memory hit him instantly - of what he had done. And he got flustered. Not only had he slept on Sunoo in the car with their manager and Jungwon right there, but he had also literally laid himself on top of him in a room full of members and staff, shamelessly clinging to him as though he was the only safe thing in the world.
Ni-ki wasn’t the type to initiate physical contact first. Maybe when he was younger, sure. Back then, he used to climb into Sunoo’s bed without hesitation, curl up beside him, or rest his head on his hyung’s shoulder on long van rides. But when he grew older, he had stopped. He thought he had outgrown it. Thought he needed to keep his distance, prove that he wasn’t just the youngest anymore.
And yet, after all these years, he had done it again. So freely. So desperately.
And Sunoo… Sunoo had let him.
The same Sunoo who wasn’t fond of physical touch, who often shied away from lingering hugs, who preferred his space. He hadn’t pushed him away. He hadn’t judged him.
When Ni-ki stirred awake on his chest, Sunoo didn’t tease him, didn’t laugh at him. The only thing he said, his tone calm and even, was:
“We’re on stage in 15 minutes. Better get your makeup done.”
That was it. No mention of his vulnerability. No teasing remark. Just quiet acceptance.
On stage, they didn’t interact much anyway, so everything looked normal. Sunoo looked normal, acted normal. So why couldn’t Ni-ki do the same? Why did he feel his chest tightening every time he stole a glance at him?
He had to thank the sunglasses for hiding his eyes during the show, because he couldn’t stop looking. Every second, he found himself turning toward him, drawn in without control. And backstage, when the performance ended and they stood under dimmer lights with no disguise, he still couldn’t look away.
And Sunoo knew. Ni-ki could tell he knew. But the older didn’t tease him for staring, didn’t use it as material for a joke, didn’t even question him. He just let him look.
That silence burned more than words ever could.
On the ride back, Ni-ki had to switch places with Jake. He couldn’t bring himself to sit in the same car as his hyung, not when the confusion inside him was swelling so strong it hurt.
And now, back in the hotel, after a shower that had been more about zoning out than cleaning himself, Ni-ki lay sprawled on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His hair was still damp, messy and air-dried, dark circles heavy beneath his eyes. Joggers clung loosely to his frame, his tank top exposing the rise and fall of his chest.
He felt weird. That kind of weird he always felt when homesickness gnawed at him. Except this time, it wasn’t about Japan. It wasn’t about his parents, his old room, or the quiet streets he used to walk.
This time, it was about Sunoo.
Why did he miss him so much? Even when he was right there? Why did his chest ache at the thought of him leaving the room? Why did he want to hold on, the way he had earlier, like if he let go, something in him would fall apart completely?
A knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts.
With a groan, he stood, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. The messy hair, the heavy eye bags, the hollow look - none of it helped. He opened the door, expecting their manager or some staff member.
But instead -
“Sunoo?” His voice cracked slightly in surprise.
“Hyung,” Sunoo corrected softly, a faint smile ghosting over his lips. “Come on, it’s not that hard.”
Riki blinked, at a loss. “Right… What are you doing here?”
“To talk,” Sunoo said simply. “I wanted to talk.”
Riki hesitated for a second before stepping aside, letting him in. Sunoo made his way to the bed, sitting down with ease, while Riki remained standing awkwardly near the door before finally joining him.
“You were really tired today,” Sunoo started, his voice low but steady.
Embarrassment rose in Riki’s face instantly. “We don’t have to—”
“I think we do.” Sunoo cut him off gently. “I was worried about you, you know. The whole show, I tried not to make it obvious, tried not to let the fans suspect anything, but… you scared me for a second.”
“I—no, it’s not like that,” Riki stammered. “I just… took a pill before—”
“You took one before the show?!” Sunoo’s voice sharpened, disbelief flashing across his face. “No wonder you were so tired, Riki. Those are only meant to be used at night.”
“You said once a day.”
“Yeah - at night. Not before you’re supposed to perform in front of thousands of people.” He let out a frustrated sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. “Whatever. You were already exhausted before that. What is going on? Come on, you can talk to me.”
“It’s really nothing. I just didn’t sleep that night.”
“Well then it is something,” Sunoo pressed, his tone softening but not letting go. “Ni-ki… I know things aren’t like they used to be. We’ve all grown, we’ve all changed. But you can still talk to me. Whatever it is, I want to help.”
Riki’s jaw tightened. His chest ached. He wanted to hold it in, wanted to keep it locked up - but the words slipped out before he could stop them.
“But that’s the problem, hyung. You’re the problem.” His voice cracked with frustration, guilt flooding his face immediately after.
Sunoo froze, eyebrows knitting together. “…Excuse me?”
“Not that you did something,” Riki rushed, shaking his head. “I promise you didn’t. But… but you wouldn’t understand.”
“Then make me understand.” Sunoo stood from the bed, taking a step closer, eyes steady.
Riki’s lips trembled. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to. His gaze dropped to the ground, shame crawling up his throat.
“Please,” Sunoo said softly, careful now.
And something in Riki broke.
“I’m… I’m homesick,” he admitted, voice barely recognizable.
Sunoo stilled. He knew that tone. It was the same broken, fragile tone Riki had once used when he was younger, standing at the edge of his bed asking to sleep beside him. That tone that carried not just loneliness, but the ache of needing someone, needing home.
And Sunoo realized. Riki wasn’t just talking about Japan.
So he reached out, gently taking the younger’s wrist, pulling him toward the bed. The moonlight filtered in through the curtains, silvering the room in soft light. Sunoo lay down first, giving him a sign. And Riki followed, wordless, settling beside him. Their shoulders brushed, the silence stretching.
For a while, neither spoke. They just lay there, staring at the ceiling, breathing in the same rhythm.
Finally, Sunoo broke the quiet. “I get homesick too. Both ways.”
Riki turned his head slightly, eyes flicking to him. “How?”
“Well… I obviously miss my parents, my sister. That’s the first.” Sunoo paused, his voice soft and pensive. “But the other kind… I miss the times we used to sit at the dinner table, arguing over what to order. Now, when we come home, we’re too exhausted to even see each other. I miss when practice was loud, when we could laugh and mess around. Now, one mistake means running it again until we’re perfect.”
His throat tightened as he went on. “I miss the days you’d climb into my bed at night, but before I even woke up, you’d already be in the living room, playing games against Heeseung hyung.”
A quiet sigh escaped him. “And I know the others miss it too. We’re all homesick, Ni-ki. You have nothing to be ashamed of. The whole world is watching you - I’d be worried if it wasn’t stressing you out. But what’s important is that you don’t bury it inside, don’t let it eat you alive. You’re young. You’ve been young this whole time, but you’re also stronger than you think. Stronger than me, definitely. And I’m sorry if I haven’t been the best hyung lately. It’s just… you always seem like you’re carrying everything so easily that sometimes I convince myself you’re fine. That it’s easier to believe you’re okay than to face the truth.”
Silence followed, thick and heavy. For a moment, Sunoo thought Riki had fallen asleep.
But then, suddenly, the younger shifted - and wrapped himself around him. His arms clung tightly, his face burying into Sunoo’s chest, trembling.
Sunoo froze for only a second before he felt it - the wetness soaking into his shirt, the quiet shaking of Riki’s body. He was crying.
So Sunoo wrapped his arms around him and held on, firm and steady. “It’s okay,” he whispered, voice breaking in its gentleness. “I’m here. I won’t go.”
Riki’s grip only tightened, his sobs muffled against him. For once, he let himself fall apart.
And that’s how they drifted to sleep - tangled together under the quiet watch of the moonlight.
When the sun rose and Ni-ki woke again, his face pressed into the same place, his arms still locked around Sunoo, he didn’t pull away. He whispered, voice cracked from sleep but steady with truth:
“You’re my home, hyung.”
Then he closed his eyes again, sinking back into the comfort he had been chasing all along