The Leader’s Burden

Inside the car, en route to the practice room, Yoon Jihyuk leaned his head against my shoulder the entire way. The heavy weight was only momentary, so I didn’t mind, but given our height difference, it couldn’t have been a comfortable position for him. I just hoped he wouldn’t get a stiff neck. Watching him so meticulously construct such a convincing facade left me dumbfounded. I didn’t push him away because it was difficult to gauge his mood. While he wasn’t radiating the same coldness he had shown Jung Sehan in the waiting room, I couldn’t tell if his meaningless smiles genuinely meant he felt better, or if they were just another facet of his usual pretense. Perhaps he had simply exhausted all his energy, causing his most familiar demeanor to surface. “Jihyuk, about the schedule for the backup dance team…” As usual, the manager was relaying the minor changes that had occurred during filming, but Yoon Jihyuk responded with unusual indifference today. Since earlier, I hadn’t heard him utter a reply longer than three syllables. “…So… you are listening, right?” “Of course.” ‘I doubt it.’ He mumbled his reply, vaguely, while idly toying with my hand, barely shifting his posture. His gaze remained fixed there, making him seem utterly disengaged from the conversation. The manager, after a quick glance at the back seat in the rearview mirror, let out a deep sigh and ceased talking. The manager’s dissatisfaction was clear on his face, while Yoon Jihyuk remained utterly oblivious to his mood. The atmosphere in the car was understandably tense. Feeling a sense of suffocation, I lowered my voice so that the driver wouldn’t overhear, and asked, “Shall we rest a bit today?” “Huh? Suddenly?” “You don’t look well. I don’t think you’ll be able to focus even if we go. It would be better to rest and recover.” Yoon Jihyuk seemed slightly flustered. He slowly touched his own face, muttering, “Is it that obvious?” ‘This can’t be happening.’ Behind his dazed voice, Yoon Jihyuk straightened his slouched body, correcting his posture. He then shook his head vigorously and opened his eyes wide, making them clear and sharp. I firmly gripped his neck and pulled him toward me. Yoon Jihyuk, who had briefly resisted due to the difference in our strength, soon yielded, allowing his body to relax with a puzzled expression. “You’re so exhausted you don’t even realize your own condition, yet I don’t understand why you’re trying to tough it out alone. If you’re uncomfortable telling the company, at least tell the members. When there are people beside you, lean on them a little.” He hesitated for a moment before replying. “How could I…? I’m the leader. I don’t want to unnecessarily affect the others because of me.” There it was again. This maddening sense of responsibility. Though I had only twice experienced being close to an idol group’s leader, their behavioral patterns were strangely similar, as if someone had prescribed them. Did anyone applaud them for overworking themselves? Well, yes, they did. The company would praise them, and fans would be moved. It was only natural to want to live up to such numerous expectations. While I detested unnecessary meddling, the constant memory of someone else kept nagging at me, making it impossible to simply ignore the situation. “Then tell me. I won’t be affected.” Our connection had not even lasted half a year. Even counting from the time Jio and the others first met, it hadn’t been a full year. It seemed unlikely that someone as sensitive and cautious as him would open up to a person with whom a proper trusting relationship hadn’t yet formed. I knew it wouldn’t work, yet I still decided to offer. “…Really?” Yoon Jihyuk slowly blinked, then asked again, his thoughts a mystery. His unusually dark eyes, which always evoked a strange sensation when stared into, now glimmered. I nodded silently, utterly unprepared for the repercussions that might follow.**** “What’s going on with you two?” Han Doyoung, an iced Americano in hand, looked down at Yoon Jihyuk and me, sneering. He even mimicked Yoon Jihyuk’s tone from earlier in the star room. “Hm? Why?” Yoon Jihyuk, his arms wrapped around my neck, clinging tightly to my back, replied with an innocent air. Though I couldn’t see him directly, I could vividly picture the expression on his face. “Aren’t you hot? Your display of affection is a bit much.” To easily describe our current appearance, we were like a cicada clinging to an old tree. The only minor issue was that I was the old tree. With his large build constantly sticking to me, it was indeed stifling. “It’s fine. Jio’s body temperature is naturally low.” “Then Jio will be hot, won’t he? What a ridiculous person, honestly.” Well, that was true, but it wasn’t enough to make me push him away. With the concert date looming, and even the backup dancers integrated, the air conditioning in the practice room was running a little too strong. It was perfect when we were moving, but when sitting still and resting, it felt cold. Aside from being a bit cumbersome, this arrangement was actually quite ideal. I closed my eyes, relaxed my body, and recalled our conversation from a few days prior. I had meant for him to confide in me rather than suffer alone, but somehow Yoon Jihyuk had interpreted it as me being his personal comfort doll. The frequency with which he clung to me, both in the dorm and outside, had significantly increased. His face had regained its luster, suggesting his mental recovery had been successful. In that case, it was worth tolerating a little inconvenience. “Hyung.” As the surrounding noise began to fade into the distance, Yoon Jihyuk, having finished his exchange with Han Doyoung, called out to someone. “Could you cover Jio’s part for a moment? I want to let him get some sleep like this.” “Uh, sure. Got it.” The person was the choreographer. My consciousness, which had been drifting into a semi-slumber and growing hazy, immediately sharpened. “I’m not sleeping.” “Then start sleeping now.” Yoon Jihyuk, having already detached himself from me, brought over a blanket and a clean, new towel, then strode away. It seemed he intended for me to use the towel as a pillow and sleep comfortably. ‘What? Why?’ As I tried to sit up, Choi Seung-beom, whose eyes met mine, capped his water bottle and shook his head. I paused my movement and looked at him, waiting for an explanation. Choi Seung-beom then tapped his own cheek with his index finger. ‘Is he… trying to act cute right now?’ My expression crumpled for a moment in confusion. Choi Seung-beom, as if realizing what misunderstanding his actions had caused, similarly distorted his face. “You look pale.” ‘Pale?’ I pulled my phone from my pocket and checked my reflection. Even through the camera, my face was strikingly pale. It was no wonder they told me to rest. Still, the concert was right around the corner. “Jio, don’t get up!” Just as I subtly tried to rise, Lee Seon, who had been watching me through the mirror, shrieked. All eyes immediately snapped in my direction. It felt as though getting up would make me a criminal. “Alright…” I had no choice but to obediently pull the blanket over myself. Practice continued smoothly without me. By this stage, mastering the choreography was a given; this period was primarily for checking the overall composition and synchronization after the backup dancers had joined. There weren’t any major adjustments needed either. A brief absence wouldn’t erase the well-practiced flow of the performance from my mind. It was better to rest when possible than to overexert myself while unwell and collapse. Hadn’t I just lectured Yoon Jihyuk with similar advice recently? Yet, I felt strangely anxious. A nagging unease, like a leech, clung to me, refusing to be shaken off, as if I were doing something I shouldn’t. ‘Can you take responsibility for the losses incurred by your absence like this?’ A familiar middle-aged man’s voice buzzed in my ears. It was clearly an auditory hallucination, as there was no way that person would appear here. ‘Am I taping this correctly?’ ‘Hyung, try raising your arm. Are you okay?’ And then, the touch of my members… No, it was Yoon Jihyuk gently tapping Jio’s shoulder. “Why are you sweating so much?” It was the moment my distant senses returned. For a brief time, I couldn’t speak. It felt like only a moment had passed. I thought I had been lost in thought for less than five minutes, but checking the clock, I saw it was already late night. The backup dancers were gathering their belongings, preparing to leave. Four hours had melted away like cotton candy washed in water. “I should have just let you rest comfortably at the dorm. I made a bad call.” Yoon Jihyuk’s face was slightly crestfallen. “You should have woken me up. It wasn’t to the point where I couldn’t practice.” “Hmm…” He chuckled, then extended his hand, implying I should take it and stand up. “Should we stop by the hospital tomorrow morning?” Yoon Jihyuk, who had even picked up my bag as if it were his own, asked the question casually. He was merely being considerate of my reluctance to discuss the topic, but I knew he was genuinely asking. ‘Should I?’ The thought briefly surfaced, only to vanish without a trace. In any case, it was a situation where the bottom of the drawer was already visible in the closet. I had already planned to properly schedule a hospital visit right after the concert. Going a few days earlier wouldn’t change anything, so there was no reason to create a gap in our schedule. “No.” At my firm refusal, Yoon Jihyuk’s mouth tightened. “I’m fine. It’s manageable.” I must have seemed contradictory. I even felt a little embarrassed. ‘But this is the right thing to do.’ Yoon Jihyuk nodded, not pressing the issue further.