Comfort in Harmony

The rain fell in sheets, each droplet a cold reminder of the day’s disappointments. You sat on the floor of the practice room, knees drawn to your chest, the silence broken only by the distant hum of traffic. The audition had been a disaster—your voice cracked, your hands shook, and the judges’ polite smiles cut deeper than any criticism. Now, the empty room echoed with your failures.

Jiseok found you first. He always did. His footsteps were soft, but you knew the pattern—the slight drag of his left foot, a habit from an old injury. He didn't say anything at first, just slid down the wall to sit beside you, close enough that the warmth of his arm seeped through your sleeve.

"You're soaked," he murmured, his voice a low rumble.

"Didn't have an umbrella."

He hummed, a noncommittal sound that said he knew it was a lie. You'd run out without one, too upset to think straight. Jiseok didn't push. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief—plain white, neatly folded. He offered it without a word.

You took it, wiping your face more out of obligation than necessity. The tears had dried hours ago.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked, his gaze fixed on the rain-streaked window.

"Not really."

"Okay."

He stayed. That was Jiseok—steady, patient, a quiet presence that asked for nothing but gave everything. You leaned into him, letting his solidity anchor you. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, and for a moment, the world felt less heavy.

The door creaked open. Jungsu slipped in, his hair damp and his expression soft with concern. He took in the scene—you curled into Jiseok, the crumpled handkerchief in your hand—and his eyes darkened with understanding.

"I heard," Jungsu said softly, closing the door behind him. "Hyung called me." He meant Gunil, who had been at the audition. "Are you okay?"

You shook your head.

Jungsu crossed the room and knelt in front of you, his hands hovering near your knees as if asking permission. You nodded, and he gently rested his palms on them, a grounding warmth.

"You're shaking," he observed.

"I'm fine."

"Liar." His voice was gentle, teasing just enough to coax a weak smile from you. "We both know you're not fine. And that's okay."

Jiseok’s arm tightened around you. "We're here."

You let out a shaky breath. "I messed up so badly. I practiced for weeks, and I just... blanked. My voice cracked on the high note. The judges looked sorry for me."

"They don't know you," Jungsu said firmly. "They don't know how hard you've worked. One audition doesn't define you."

"Easy for you to say. You're both talented. You never mess up."

Jiseok let out a soft laugh. "That's not true. Remember when I forgot half the lyrics during our first showcase? Jungsu had to cover for me."

"And I nearly dropped my mic during that busking event," Jungsu added. "My hands were so sweaty it slipped right out."

"But you caught it," you said.

"And you'll get up too," Jiseok said. "You always do."

The sincerity in his voice made your eyes sting again. You blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall.

Jungsu shifted, moving to sit on your other side, so you were sandwiched between them. He mirrored Jiseok, his shoulder pressing against yours. Both of them warm, solid, present.

"We've got you," Jungsu whispered. "Let us take care of you tonight."

You had no strength to argue. You nodded, and they stayed like that, a cocoon of warmth and quiet reassurance. Minutes passed, or maybe hours. The rain slowed to a drizzle.

Eventually, Jungsu spoke. "How about we order your favorite? That spicy rice cake thing you like."

"And watch that drama you've been wanting to see?" Jiseok added.

You looked at them, these two boys who had somehow become your safe place. Jiseok’s steady gaze and Jungsu’s encouraging smile. Two very different kinds of comfort, but both exactly what you needed.

"You don't have to do that," you said.

"We want to," Jungsu replied. "Right, Jiseok?"

"Always."

Something in your chest loosened. You managed a real smile. "Okay. But I'm choosing the drama."

"Deal."

They helped you up, each taking one of your hands. Jiseok squeezed yours briefly, a silent promise. Jungsu held on a little longer, his thumb tracing a gentle circle on your palm.

As you walked out of the practice room, between them, you realized the hurt hadn't disappeared—but it had softened, wrapped in the warmth of two hearts beating for you. And maybe that was enough.

The rain had stopped. The night air was fresh, carrying the scent of wet earth. Jungsu hummed a melody under his breath, one of their songs, and Jiseok joined in harmony. Their voices blended, low and sweet, a lullaby for your bruised spirit.

You walked on, letting the harmony soothe you, knowing that whatever came next, you wouldn't face it alone.