Chapter Text
Taki knows he’s loud.
He knows he’s the kind of person who fills silence without meaning to. The kind who talks when nervous, jokes when things get awkward, laughs a little too hard at his own words just in case no one else does.
He tells himself it’s fine.
But lately… it doesn’t feel fine.
It starts small.
A pause that lasts one beat too long after he speaks.
A glance exchanged between members when he interrupts.
A laugh that feels polite instead of genuine.
Taki notices everything.
They’re in the practice room, working through choreography for the fifth time. Everyone is tired. Sweat slicks their necks, and the mirrors are fogged. Euijoo calls for a break.
Taki flops onto the floor, breathing hard. His legs are jelly. His shirt sticks to his back. He grins anyway.
“Wow, if I fall one more time, the floor’s gonna file a restraining order against me.”
Silence.
Not total. Not cruel.
Just… thinner than usual.
Nicholas gives a half-smile. K lets out a soft huff. Maki looks at his phone.
Taki laughs too loudly. “Tough crowd, huh?”
This time the laughter comes.
But it’s delayed.
And Taki feels it like a bruise forming under skin.
That night, he scrolls through fan comments in bed. He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. Euijoo has told them a hundred times not to.
But Taki needs to know.
He needs to know if he’s too much.
Most of them are sweet.
“Taki is so bright.”
“He makes everything fun.”
“I love his energy.”
Then he sees it.
“He’s cute but he’s always talking… sometimes I just want him to be quiet, so the others have a chance to get the spotlight.”
He swallows.
Keeps scrolling.
“Taki is funny but kind of annoying in long videos.”
“I like him but he tries too hard.”
Tries too hard.
The words burn.
His chest tightens. His fingers tremble as he locks his phone. He stares at the ceiling, eyes wide, heart racing like he just messed up on stage in front of thousands.
Maybe they’re right.
Maybe I don’t know when to stop.
The next day, he decides to be quieter.
He tells himself it’s temporary. Just… observation mode.
In the van, he sits by the window instead of leaning into Nicholas like usual. He doesn’t comment on Maki’s playlist. He doesn’t joke when Fuma pretends to fall asleep dramatically.
No one notices at first.
But Taki does.
Every time he has something to say, he swallows it.
Every time laughter bubbles up, he smothers it.
By the time they reach the studio, his throat feels tight.
During practice, he messes up more than usual. His timing is off. His focus slips.
K calls his name.
“Taki. Again.”
Taki nods. “Sorry.”
His voice is small.
Nicholas frowns.
⸻
Later, during lunch, everyone’s sitting around the table with takeout boxes. The room is full of noise—forks scraping, wrappers crinkling,
Maki complaining about spice levels.
Taki sits there quietly, pushing rice around his container. Nicholas watches him.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Taki says quickly.
Too quickly.
Nicholas doesn’t buy it.
“You’ve been weird today.”
Taki forces a laugh. “Weird how?”
“Quiet.”
The word lands like a dropped plate.
Taki shrugs. “Just tired.”
Nicholas studies him, but lets it go.
Taki hates himself for feeling relieved.
⸻
That night, he overhears something he shouldn’t.
He’s walking past the living room when he hears Yuma and Jo talking softly.
“Did you notice Taki today?” Yuma says.
“Yeah,” Jo replies. “He barely said anything.”
“…Maybe he finally got tired of hearing himself.”
They laugh lightly.
Not cruelly.
But it still hits.
Taki freezes in the hallway.
Finally got tired of hearing himself.
His chest caves in.
He retreats to his room and shuts the door silently, sliding down against it until he’s sitting on the floor with his knees pulled to his chest.
His eyes sting.
So they do think I talk too much.
They’re relieved I’m quiet.
He presses his fist into his mouth to keep from making noise.