:ㅤ(⌖)ㅤ𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 ⸻

• CHARACTERS 𓈒  ࣪  ִ Huh Seonghwa & the luzrs
•TIMESTAMP 𓈒  ࣪  ִ March 3, 2025 [ pre comeback ]
•W/C 𓈒  ࣪  ִ 2.8K words
•WARNINGS 𓈒  ࣪  ִ Swearing, chaos in the midas labs studio, seonghwa was trying to make people happy... but you can't win them all.
• SYNOPSIS𓈒  ࣪  ִ He just wanted to keep things light — to bring the energy back, to make his members smile again. That was all. But not everyone wants light. Sometimes, even one comment is enough to dim it. One moment. One person. That's all it took to make him wonder if trying was even worth it.

—

He was the mood maker of the group! Of course, he should be the one making people laugh and smile. He should be doing all of the above, but at this very moment, his energy was down. It felt like someone had slapped him in the face.

It hurt. Even though it hadn't happened, it still felt like a sting on his cheek. He didn't mean to make the person uncomfortable or mad. He was just being himself... that wasn't a bad thing, was it?

He nodded, barely, as he sank back onto the studio couch, silent now. His fingers tugged at the hem of his sleeves, fidgeting, twisting. The room was quiet. Too quiet. No one met his eyes.

Just moments ago, he'd been moving around the room—offering ideas, cracking jokes, keeping everyone from dozing off. But that all stopped the second the producer opened his mouth. "Can you sit still for once? We're trying to focus here, not get distracted every two minutes."

Then, with a flat, dismissive tone that cut deeper than it should've....."I get that you like being the clown, but this is work. If you can't take it seriously, maybe you should just step out."

A pin drop would've echoed. But it wasn't a pin that broke the silence. It was laughter. Deep, low, and bitter.

Noa.

Not his usual laugh—not the amused one he gave when someone made a decent pun, not the warm chuckle he reserved for quiet praise. This one came from somewhere colder.

"Wow." The word dripped sarcasm, slicing through the tension like a blade. "You managed to shut him up. Not even I can do that."

He still hadn't looked up from his notepad. His voice alone was enough to shift the temperature in the room. But when he did lift his head—slowly, sharply—and locked eyes with the producer, it was like the air got thinner.

"If you're going to disrespect my members, you're disrespecting our music," Noa said, calm but lethal.

Then came the chair. A nudge of his foot sent the producer rolling backward, wheels squeaking faintly on the studio floor. "Apologize. Then walk. And don't come back."

No one dared to argue. Not after that. No one said anything. No one moved, no one breathed, and there was no sound in the studio. The producer didn't even let out a breath as he looked around the studio. Everyone's eyes were on him. They were all pissed. It was one thing to talk shit about the group, to criticize their work, or even question their direction. That could be handled. But this? This was different. Disrespecting Seonghwa, the one who always made things light, who kept them grounded when the stress piled up—that was unforgivable.

Sure at times Seonghwa was a little bit obnoxious and annoying, but he was their mood-maker. The person who was supposed to make them happy in times of stress or tiredness. He was just trying to do what he thought was right. So the fact that the producer said those words to him was enough to piss off every single one of the members. No one and that means, no one could top the level of anger Seonghwan had. That was his twin brother. The person he shared the womb with. His little brother. His little brother he always promised his mom to take care of.

So the fact that this producer sat here and talked about his brother that way in front of him was enough to piss him off beyond belief. All he could see was red as he stood up from his seat on the couch. His fists balled up.

The second Seonghwan moved, Jaewon's hand was already on his chest, shoving him back with a quiet but firm "No." Jaewon's eyes were locked on the producer, calculating, but he didn't budge.

Seonghwan's fists were clenched, his shoulders tense, but Jaewon stood between him and the producer, arms out like a wall. It was clear Jaewon wasn't afraid to step in, but even he knew when to hold back the chaos.

"No," Jaewon repeated, his voice soft but final. He wasn't asking. He was stopping a storm from breaking loose. He pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, as he glared at the producer. He pushed Jaewon's arm away as he left to leave the studio. The door slammed shut behind him. That seemed to snap the manager out of whatever daze he was in as he realized what was happening and stepped in. He pulled the producer to the side, not wanting to let the members hear their conversation.

No one heard exactly what he said to the producer, but the producer was quick to snatch up this computer and notebook before leaving the studio. Their manager followed behind, leaving just the 5 members in the studio. No one said anything. Kian and Jaewon looked at Noa who hadn't said anything since he told the producer to get out. Harin was sitting on the couch, comforting Seonghwa as best as he could. He was quiet. Something they weren't used to.

They were so used to his high-energy jokes, laughter, and annoyance, but here he was being completely and utterly quiet. And it didn't sit right with them. It never would. And it certainly didn't do so well with Noa, who looked at the other members. They gave him a nod and pulled Harin outside with them. Noa sighed sitting beside Seonghwa on the couch. He didn't even once glance at him. He just stared ahead, the silence stretching long enough to make his discomfort clear.

Damn, that asshole got to him. "Come on, man," he muttered, leaning back and crossing his arms. "This isn't you."

Seonghwa didn't respond, still lost in his thoughts. Noa clicked his tongue, exhaling loudly as if trying to get a reaction. Finally, after a moment of no response, he turned to Seonghwa, frustration lacing his voice.

"You're an idiot," Noa said, the words blunt but not unkind. "You're the most obnoxious, loud, and uncontrollable idiot. But we love that about you! It's what makes you, you. And we don't ask you to change, because we don't want you to."

He softened a bit, letting the words settle. "So anyone else can say all the shit they want because they don't know you the way we do."

Noa leaned forward, his voice dropping into something more sincere, though still tinged with his usual playful edge. "I'm gonna let you wallow in your sadness, but tomorrow, I expect you to return to the good old, fun and loving, annoying little brat that we all know and love!"

A grin tugged at Noa's lips. "Or I'm gonna call your mom." Seonghwa still didn't respond because all he did was shake his head.

Noa's smile faded a little, his gaze softening. He wanted to say more—tell him everything would be okay, that it wasn't his fault, that he didn't deserve to feel this way—but he knew Seonghwa needed space to figure it out on his own.

With a sigh, Noa stood up slowly, patting Seonghwa on the shoulder as he made his way to the door. "I'll let you be for now," he said, the usual warmth in his voice still there, even if it was quieter. "Just... come back to us tomorrow, alright?"

He gave one last glance over his shoulder before stepping out, leaving Seonghwa to his thoughts. Noa hoped that tomorrow would bring the Seonghwa they all knew and loved back, but for now, all he could do was hope.

—

The morning sunlight filters through the glass door of the dorm's balcony, casting a soft glow on the wooden floor. Seonghwa sits in one of the chairs, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the ground. His fingers nervously tap against the armrest, a rhythm that feels out of place. He's been up for a while, but the weight of the night before still clings to him. The usual energy, the chaos, feels distant—like it belongs to someone else.

The air outside is still cool, the hum of the city faint in the distance. The space is quiet, almost too quiet. There's a mug of half-empty coffee on the table beside him, untouched for a while. His eyes dart to the horizon, then quickly back to his hands as if avoiding any direct thought.

Seonghwan steps outside quietly, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the balcony floor. He pauses for a moment, watching his twin in silence, taking in the way Seonghwa's shoulders are slightly hunched, the stiffness in his posture. Seonghwa doesn't look up, doesn't acknowledge him. The silence between them is thick, not uncomfortable but heavy with unspoken things.

Seonghwan sits down next to him, a little too close, but it doesn't matter. His presence is warm, a familiar weight beside him. He leans back slightly, his arms resting on the back of the chair, gazing out at the view, but not seeing it. He's waiting, as though giving Seonghwa space to say something, anything.

For a while, it's just the soft breeze, the sounds of the morning, and the quiet breathing between them. Seonghwa doesn't move, doesn't shift to face him. His gaze stays locked in one spot, the slight tremor in his hands still evident despite the stillness of the moment.

Seonghwan's eyes flicker toward his brother, a quiet frustration building up in him, but he doesn't rush it. He knows Seonghwa too well to push. He lets the silence stretch longer, the tension between them crackling lightly in the cool air.

Finally, Seonghwa shifts his weight, bringing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them, as if trying to hold himself together. His gaze moves over to Seonghwan, but he doesn't speak. His eyes hold something—too much, too raw as if the world might slip out through the cracks if he says anything at all.

Seonghwan's jaw tightens briefly before he exhales deeply, sitting up straighter, eyes still on the horizon but his presence there with Seonghwa undeniably solid, anchored in the shared space between them. "I hate this. I hate that you let him talk shit about you and made you become this way. You usually could care less if it's me or our members talking crap so did he get you? Why did you let someone you don't even know get to you? So the fact you're letting him get to you is what is pissing me off. Why the fuck do you care what he says? Huh?" Seonghwan asks pushing his brother

Seonghwa doesn't respond at first. His body rocks slightly from the push, but he doesn't push back. He just stays there, curled in on himself, his face unreadable. The words sink into him slowly, like water soaking through fabric—inevitable, but heavy.

His fingers curl tighter around the fabric of his pants. He swallows hard, his throat bobbing. The silence that follows Seonghwan's outburst is thick, but not empty. It carries the ache, the guilt, the quiet question beneath the anger: why did you stop being you?

Seonghwa doesn't respond. He just sits there, lips pressed together, jaw twitching like he's trying to hold everything in. His eyes don't meet Seonghwan's—they stay on the floor, distant, dull in a way that unsettles his brother more than anger ever could.

Seonghwan pushes him again, not hard, but enough to jolt him a little. "Seriously. Say something."

Seonghwa sighed looking away at the city. "He didn't say like you guys do. He said it like someone who didn't know me. Doesn't know about my condition or the fact that this is the way I am. He judged me before getting to know me. I have never once cared how I showed my ADHD or my little quirks. But then again...."

His voice thins out like the thought is too fragile to say out loud. He swallows, the words sticking to his throat. "Maybe I was only ever okay with it because you guys were okay with it. Because I knew I had you, and the others, and no one ever made me feel like I was too much."

He lets out a shaky breath, eyes still locked on the skyline. "But when he said it... it felt like he was seeing everything I try not to be. Loud. Distracting. Annoying. And suddenly it wasn't just a joke anymore. It felt real."

His fingers fidget with the hem of his sleeve. "It made me wonder if maybe I've been dragging everyone down this whole time. That I was only useful when I was fun or funny. And if I'm not that... then what am I?"

Seonghwan stood up and paced as he ran his fingers through his hair. "You're my brother! My fucking brother who may be annoying and a bit much at times but that doesn't define you! You're kind, you're funny, you're smart, and you care about people more than you care about yourself. That's the person I grew up knowing." He spoke turning to look at him. Seonghwa could tell from the way Seonghwan switched from Korean to English that he was pissed off.

"Stop worrying what he said. You will never see him again. You're the one who's going to be affected by this if you keep letting his words run over and over again in your mind. You're here with people who like you for you. Sure you're annoying, but that doesn't matter. You still make us laugh and smile with your goofiness and annoyance. So fuck him and fuck what he said to you. I don't want my little brother suffering just because of something an asshole said because he couldn't handle you. Not everyone's going to and so why does it matter, huh?"

He stared down at Seonghwa, his chest rising and falling like he'd just finished a fight. Maybe he had. Maybe this was his way of fighting—for him.

When Seonghwa didn't answer, Seonghwan let out a frustrated sigh and muttered, "God, you piss me off sometimes."

But his voice cracked just a little at the end. And that's when it hit.

Seonghwa blinked, eyes flicking up to meet his brother's—just for a second—and then he looked away again, the sting behind his eyes growing sharper.

Seonghwa's throat tightened, and he looked down at his hands again, the corners of his eyes stinging. He wasn't crying—not really—but the weight in his chest was softening just enough to crack open.

He let out a short, breathy laugh. "You do talk too much when you're angry."

Seonghwan rolled his eyes, but the tension in his shoulders eased just slightly. "And you shut down too fast when you're hurting." He bumped his shoulder against Seonghwa's—not playful, not teasing. Just there. Steady. Solid. "So I guess we even each other out."

They sat in silence after that. Not the heavy, suffocating silence from earlier, but the kind that felt like an exhale. Like the worst of the storm had passed, and they were just sitting in the stillness after.

Below them, the world was waking up—cars crawling down the street, someone laughing far off, a breeze carrying the scent of something warm from a nearby bakery. Life going on. The kind of normalcy that felt like a small comfort.

Seonghwa drew his knees up to his chest again, resting his chin on them. "I'm not all the way okay yet," he said quietly, his voice a little hoarse.

Seonghwan didn't hesitate. "You don't have to be. Just don't go quiet on us like that again. Especially not with me."

Seonghwa nodded, eyes still on the horizon. The sun had climbed higher now, painting soft gold across the city skyline. For the first time since yesterday, the air around him didn't feel so heavy. He still didn't feel like himself—not entirely—but the numbness was fading, replaced by something warmer. Fragile, but real.

He glanced sideways at his twin, voice soft. "You think I'm the glue?"

Seonghwan snorted. "I know you are." Then, after a pause, "I just hope you remember it next time someone tries to make you feel small."

Seonghwa didn't answer. He didn't need to. He just leaned into his brother's side, letting his head rest on Seonghwan's shoulder as the sun crept higher into the sky.

And for a little while, they just stayed like that—two halves of the same whole, sitting quietly in the light, holding space for each other until the world felt bearable again.