With every passing moment and every word spoken, Deuk-yong’s expressions shifted vividly, drawing bursts of laughter from Sol. His rugged appearance and booming voice often made people mistake him for being angry when they only heard him speak. At first, Sol, too, would startle whenever Deuk-yong addressed him, but the more time they spent together, the more he found himself laughing at Deuk-yong’s unfiltered sincerity.
It was especially entertaining when Ji-ho and Deuk-yong were paired together. The way they bickered and teased each other sometimes made their agency’s practice room feel more like an elementary school classroom. And whenever Sol burst out laughing at their antics, Ji-ho and Deuk-yong would double down, deliberately provoking each other even more—just like now.
“You play the human, and Sol can be the fairy.”
“I wanna be the fairy too…”
Sol giggled, and Ji-ho ran with the joke.
“Fine, be the ‘Diet Fairy’ or something.”
“Wow, that’s just cruel.”
As if competing to make him laugh again, the two kept volleying increasingly ridiculous, childish remarks. Watching them, Tae-oh gave up on scolding them and stayed quiet. Even before Sol joined the group, Ji-ho had often teased Deuk-yong like this. Despite his hulking frame, Deuk-yong was tenderhearted, and Ji-ho made sure to poke fun at him whenever he seemed down, leaving no room for gloom.
But this—this back-and-forth banter whenever they locked eyes—was new. It was a change that had come with Sol’s arrival. The same went for Tae-oh. In the past, he would’ve pushed Ji-ho and Deuk-yong to focus, cutting their breaks short to drill practice relentlessly.
Tae-oh knew his strictness had worn the others down, even causing friction with Ji-ho a few times. It wasn’t until after a long talk—where Tae-oh explained why he pushed them so hard—that Ji-ho finally understood. And once he grasped why Deuk-yong acted so playfully, Tae-oh eased up, at least for a while.
Ji-ho had a way of making everything seem effortless. Even Tae-oh, who’d known him for years, had to look closely to tell when his expressions or emotions were put on. Right now, while Tae-oh would’ve fumbled through an awkward hug, Ji-ho pulled Sol into an embrace like it was the most natural thing. The memory of yesterday flashed in Tae-oh’s mind, and he swallowed a dry cough.
Ga-ram’s reaction yesterday had bothered him, and seeing Ji-ho act so freely with Sol stirred something ugly in his chest. Especially the way Ji-ho had rested his chin on Sol’s shoulder, grinning at Tae-oh with that infuriatingly bright smile. But watching Sol laugh, his teeth white and even, made all of it irrelevant. His joy was contagious—Tae-oh found himself smiling back without realizing it. For a split second, Ji-ho’s fox-like smirk faltered, his eyes widening in surprise. But it didn’t matter. Sol’s shimmering silver hair swayed, his pale face blooming like a flower, as if ice itself were shattering.
"We’re going to do great on this stage too."
Sol, who had been laughing at the two’s antics, spoke up while gripping Ji-ho’s wrist where it rested around his waist. At first, it seemed like he might push Ji-ho away—uncomfortable with the sudden touch—but instead, he pulled Ji-ho’s arm tighter around him.
"Suddenly?"
Ji-ho’s question was ambiguous—was it about Sol’s unexpected comment, or the way he had just yanked Ji-ho closer?
"I just feel it. The outfits are going to be perfect too."
"Obviously. Honestly, I’d still look good even in pajamas."
Deuk-yong chimed in with another one of his absurdly earnest remarks, and Sol nodded enthusiastically, as if it were the most reasonable statement in the world. At this point, it was clear everyone in the practice room shared the same thought: The only one who could pull off performing on TV in sleepwear is you, Sol. Even Tae-oh caught himself smirking at the idea—until his eyes accidentally met Sol’s.
"I’ll work even harder from now on."
Had Sol mistaken Tae-oh’s expression for disapproval? His bright smile dimmed into something more solemn, like he was making a vow. Ji-ho tilted his head, studying Sol’s face.
"You’re already working hard enough, aren’t you?"
"Yeah, hyung. If you push yourself any more, you’ll collapse like last time."
Tae-oh nodded in agreement with Ji-ho and Deuk-yong. If anything, Sol was too relentless—skimping on meals, barely getting enough rest, and still struggling every morning. More than once, Tae-oh had fought the urge to barge into the bathroom when he heard Sol stumbling around, terrified he’d find him passed out on the tiles. He wasn’t the only one. Even Ji-ho, while making breakfast, would call out "Sol?" every few minutes, just to be sure.
"But I’ll be fine!"
Sol answered cheerfully, his voice full of determination—but his enthusiasm only made the others frown. Tae-oh’s brow furrowed instantly.
"No, you won’t."
His tone was ice, sharp enough to cut through Sol’s optimism. Sol wrinkled his nose, offering a bittersweet smile. He knew what Tae-oh was worried about. Ever since that first evaluation, when he’d collapsed, the members had started treating him like glass—something fragile, something that might shatter at the slightest pressure. Sure, he’d taken a break from dance, but he wasn’t that weak. That day had just been a perfect storm of bad circumstances. Nothing more.
Now that he was making full use of the Stability Potion and had his penalties reduced by half, Sol judged it would be fine to push himself even harder in practice. Even if he did collapse as everyone feared, as long as it didn't affect the actual performance, he didn't see it as a problem.
Though he had been lost in depression and lethargy for a while, as a dancer, Sol had always been the kind of relentless student who never rested even as a child. Everyone who shared practice rooms with him would shake their heads, saying even the talented ones could be obsessive. That forgotten version of himself was resurfacing now. In a way, it could be seen as him finding his way back, but to the members, it was nothing short of alarming.
He had brightened considerably, but there were still moments—the uneasy flicker in his eyes, the times he zoned out blankly, the way he always seemed drained whenever they got in the car. And above all, certain conversations had made the members suspect that Sol carried some deeper pain, that something in him had been broken.
"It's not just about one performance," Tae-oh said. "Debut isn't the end—you have to keep going as an idol."
"Yeah, yeah. Tae-oh's right. That's why you're our leader. Always speaking facts."
"Working hard is good. But if it starts damaging your health—physically or mentally—that's a problem."
As he finished speaking, Tae-oh glanced subtly at Sol, wondering if he'd been too harsh. He knew Sol had brought this up with good intentions, and mentioning "mental" health felt delicate—like touching on something Sol might want to keep hidden. Yeong-ho, who had promised to look further into Sol's condition, still hadn't said anything about it. To Tae-oh, Sol did seem brighter, less hazy than before—more present. But for Sol's sake, he wanted to be sure.
"Right. And in that kind of state, nothing would even be fun anyway," Deuk-yong added, uncharacteristically serious. "You'd just want to quit everything and rest. You wouldn't be able to think straight."
"This is all because we care about you, hyung. So don't overdo it," Deuk-yong finished, and Sol's expression turned awkward. He felt guilty for making them worry just because his face stiffened, and at the same time, their protectiveness was almost stifling. That one incident had saddled him with this fragile image, like he'd collapse at the slightest breeze, and he wasn't sure how to shake it off.
'Maybe I should start working out with Deuk-yong.'
Sol briefly considered it, thinking of Deuk-yong heading out to exercise every night. But the idea of actually joining him felt impossible—by the time they got back to the dorm after practice, Sol could barely lift a finger. If any of the members knew what he was thinking, they would've pointed out that this was exactly why they worried. But to the end, Sol refused to admit that his stamina wasn't all that great.
As Sol remained lost in thought, Ji-ho—wondering if they'd been too negative toward his determination—absentmindedly poked at Deuk-yong again. Deuk-yong, who seemed oblivious yet perceptive in just the right ways, immediately picked up on Ji-ho's unspoken cue and played along.
"Kim Deuk-yong, you've grown up so much—who knew you could say things like that?"
"I've always been mature. Have you ever seen a baby this big? A muscle-packed, manly infant like me?"
"Yeah, you're a full-grown angry adult now. Guess Deuk-yong's the big hyung now. By sheer size, he’s the eldest. Sol and I should be the maknaes."
Ji-ho gave Sol’s shoulder a light shake, snapping him out of his thoughts. Jolted back to reality, Sol just laughed brightly, as if nothing had happened. Encouraged by his reaction, Deuk-yong and Ji-ho escalated the bit.
"Ahem. Maknae Ji-ho, rub hyung’s shoulders for me."
"Deuk-yong hyung, Ji-ho’s just a baby—his hands are too weak."
Ji-ho lisped childishly, ducking behind Sol, who was smaller than him, and Deuk-yong made an exaggeratedly offended face.
"Sol hyung, can I hit him just once?"
"A hyung hitting his dongsaeng?"
"So annoying."
Deuk-yong clenched his fist threateningly but didn’t actually swing—his punch didn’t even come close. As the tension dissolved into laughter, Ga-ram returned at the perfect moment.
"Yeong-ho hyung’s here."
Behind Ga-ram, who’d flung the practice room door open, stood Yeong-ho—sweating profusely despite the cold weather, as if he’d sprinted over. Instantly, all eyes locked onto him. Sol, who already knew the concept images, and the rest of the members, who’d been waiting impatiently for news about their outfits, all lit up with anticipation.
"Everyone, head up to the third floor for costume fittings now."
"Yes!"
The moment the long-awaited announcement left Yeong-ho’s mouth, they answered in unison like obedient children, their earlier worries forgotten in an instant.
