Chapter Text
Seungcheol woke with a start, the ceiling of the dorm blurry in the dim morning light. His mouth was dry, his body heavy, but it wasn’t the drinks from last night weighing him down.
It was the memory.
The bathroom.
The warmth.
The sounds.
The flash of silver glinting in the fluorescent light.
He squeezed his eyes shut, groaning quietly into his pillow. His stomach twisted with guilt, what had he done?, but the guilt tangled with something worse. Something more dangerous.
His body remembered.
The rush of heat, the shiver that shot down his spine, the way his knees had almost given out. He could still feel it, phantom and raw, like his skin hadn’t caught up to the fact it was over.
Seungcheol sat up, dragging both hands over his face. “Stupid,” he muttered under his breath. His voice cracked in the silence.
He told himself it was reckless. That he could never do it again. That if anyone ever found out, his life, and the group, would be destroyed.
But the more he tried to bury it, the sharper it came back.
Not just the feeling, but him. The stranger. The way he’d waited, patient and steady, the hand with the silver ring tapping lightly against the divider like he knew Seungcheol would come closer.
His chest tightened. It had been anonymous. Wordless. Faceless. And yet, somehow, it felt more real than anything in his life.
He pressed his elbows to his knees, hanging his head low.
I can’t let this happen again.
But even as he thought it, he already knew it was a lie.
—---------------
By the afternoon, Seungcheol was in the practice room with the others. The mirrors stretched wide in front of them, fluorescent lights glaring down as the thud of bass filled the air.
He knew the choreography by heart, he could do it half-asleep, but today his body lagged behind his mind. His steps were a fraction too slow, his arm a beat too late.
“Hyung, you’re off,” Soonyoung called from across the room, panting as he ran through the chorus again.
“I know,” Seungcheol muttered, running a hand through his damp hair. His shirt clung to his back, the heat in the room only adding to the restlessness eating at him.
Jeonghan sidled up next to him, flashing that easy smile. “Leader-nim spacing out? That’s new.”
Seungcheol simply huffed out a laugh, shoving him lightly on the shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. Guess I’m human after all.”
Jeonghan grinned wider, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. “Don’t tell the others. They’ll panic if they find out you can mess up.”
Seungcheol shook his head, chuckling, but his chest was tight. He wanted to be in this moment, joking with Jeonghan, leading his members. Instead, his mind betrayed him, replaying the bathroom, the sounds, the silver ring. His body ached with the memory.
Soonyoung clapped his hands to restart the music, and the group fell back into formation. Seungcheol forced himself to move, to count the beat, to focus. But every turn in the mirror showed him the same thing: his own distracted eyes, looking right past himself.
—--------
The dorm was quiet, but Seungcheol couldn’t sleep. He laid on his side staring at the faint glow of the streetlight bleeding through the curtains. Every time he closed his eyes, he was back in the stall. The heat, the sounds, the way his body had given out beneath the stranger’s mouth. And that flash of silver, glinting in the light like a brand on his memory.
He rolled onto his back with a groan, dragging a hand down his face. Stop. Forget it. Don’t think about it.
But his body betrayed him. His skin prickled with heat, his chest rising too fast, his legs restless under the sheets. The need throbbed through him, sharp and insistent.
“Damn it,” he whispered to the dark, his voice hoarse.
His hands moved before he’d fully decided, fumbling at the waistband of his sweats. The motion was clumsy, frantic, almost desperate. When he wrapped his fingers around himself, a broken sound slipped from his throat before he could swallow it down.
His hips shifted restlessly against the mattress as he gave in, every stroke tied to the memory. He could picture it all so clearly: the slow tease of a tongue, the heat closing around him, the rhythm that had torn him apart. The phantom sensation was so vivid it nearly made him cry out.
He bit his lip hard, smothering the noises rising in his chest, but muffled whimpers still escaped. Each sound made his heart hammer harder, terrified someone would hear, but unable to stop. The pressure built fast, years of restraint unraveling in minutes.
It hit him suddenly, violently. His whole body arched, his breath catching in a strangled groan as release tore through him. The sheets twisted in his grip, damp with sweat, his thighs trembling from the force of it as he painted his own stomach white.
He collapsed back onto the mattress, gasping for air, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run for miles. His hand fell limp against his stomach, trembling. The relief was real, but so was the shame.
Seungcheol turned his head toward the faint reflection in the dark window. His own flushed face stared back, eyes wide, lips parted. He didn’t recognize himself.
“What am I doing?” he whispered.
The window, like the mirror the night before, had no answer.
—------------
A few days passed. Schedules, practices, rehearsals, the days blurred together. Seungcheol kept his head down, did his job, led the group. On the surface, nothing had changed.
But inside, everything had.
Every night, when the dorm was quiet, the memory returned. The heat. The rhythm. The silver ring. He tried to drown it in exhaustion, in discipline, in work, but the pull never left him.
So when Minjae’s name flashed across his phone again one evening, Seungcheol already knew what it meant before opening the message.
Minjae: “Hyung, you're coming with us! Don't ghost me again.”
Seungcheol sat back on his bed, thumb hovering over the keyboard. His first instinct was to type no. It was safer. It was smarter.
But the thought of staying behind, trapped in the dorm with his thoughts, gnawed at him. He imagined the bar, the music, the crowd, the anonymity. His pulse quickened before he even realized.
He typed back slowly:
Seungcheol: “where?”
The reply came fast.
Minjae: “Same place, 9 o’clock.”
Seungcheol swore under his breath and tossed his phone onto the sheets. He told himself he’d just go for the company, for the break. That it was about seeing old friends. About feeling normal.
But deep down, he knew.
It wasn’t the laughter or the drinks pulling him out the door that night. It was the bathroom. The stall. The silver ring.
And the dangerous truth that he wanted to feel it again.
—-------------
The bar was the same as last time: dim lights, sticky tables, music thudding low under the chatter of voices. Seungcheol sat crammed into the booth with Minjae and a couple of the others, a glass sweating in his hand.
They laughed easily, swapping stories, teasing one another. Seungcheol laughed too, or at least he tried. But the sound felt hollow in his own ears. He wasn’t really listening. His eyes kept drifting toward the hallway at the back of the room.
The bathroom door.
His heart thudded in his chest every time he glanced at it. He tried to focus on the conversation, tried to remind himself he had promised he was just here to see his friends. But the pull was too strong, his body already buzzing with the memory.
Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. “Gonna hit the restroom,” he muttered, sliding out of the booth.
Nobody looked twice.
Seungcheol's footsteps were heavy down the hallway, his pulse hammering louder with every step. The moment he pushed into the bathroom, the world seemed to narrow.
The same stall. Silent, waiting.
He stepped inside and shut the door, leaning back against it with a shaky breath. A few seconds later, fingers slipped through the hole. The silver ring caught the light, steady and patient.
Seungcheol’s chest clenched. It was him.
His own hand reached out before he could overthink it, covering the stranger’s, their fingertips grazing, palms pressing together through the gap. The cool edge of the ring dug lightly into his skin.
Without thinking, Seungcheol twisted it gently, rolling the band against the man’s finger. His thumb brushed over the metal again and again, like he was memorizing it.
The hand stilled, then curled against his, holding on for a brief moment. And then it slipped away.
A beat later, something slid through the opening. A foil packet.
Seungcheol's breath stuttered. His fingers closed around it, trembling.
The stranger had recognized him. And he wanted more.
Seungcheol tore the packet open with clumsy urgency, his whole body trembling as the man shifted on the other side. There was the faint sound of fabric, shoes scuffing against tile, and then he backed up. The man's cheeks and slick hole coming into view, presenting himself wordlessly, ready.
Seungcheol's hand reached out again, tentative, brushing over the slick hole where lube had already been spread. The stranger let out a muffled gasp, soft and beautiful, and Seungcheol's chest constricted at the sound.
It was all the permission he needed.
Seungcheol lined himself up, every nerve in his body on fire. The initial push was slow, uncertain, but the moment heat closed around his cock he almost lost his balance. His forehead thudded against the stall wall a little too hard, a strangled groan tearing from his throat.
It was overwhelming. Too tight, too hot, every inch of him trembling with the shock of it. He stayed still for a heartbeat, trying to breathe, trying to ground himself. On the other side, the man gave a muffled gasp, soft and shaky, and the sound nearly undid him.
Seungcheol started to move. Careful at first, shallow, testing. His hand braced against the wall as his hips rolled slowly forward. The stranger stayed still, letting him lead, letting him take what he wanted.
The rhythm built. Slow became steady, steady became desperate. Each thrust dragged another sound from the man, high, breathy cries that made Seungcheol's chest clench with need. His own groans grew louder too, spilling out despite the way he bit down hard on his lip to hold them back.
He tried different speeds, different depths: faster, then slower, shallow, then deep. And every change earned him a different sound in return. Gasps, whines, broken moans. Pretty noises that filled the cramped stall and drove him wild.
Seungcheol’s body burned with the effort, sweat sliding down his spine. The sound of the wall between them rattling echoed sharp in the air, mixing with the stranger’s cries and his own ragged breathing. He thrust harder, faster, chasing the sound, chasing the heat, chasing the high that was building too quickly to stop.
When it hit, it tore through him like a wave crashing down. His body seized, his mouth falling open in a guttural cry he couldn’t contain as he clutched helplessly at the wall. His vision blurred as release shuddered through him, violent and unstoppable.
On the other side, the man broke too, his voice splintering into a sharp, helpless moan. The wet hole around his cock tightening, sending shivers down Seungcheol's spine. For a moment, the two of them were nothing but sound and sensation, clinging to the thin partition between them.
Then it was over.
Seungcheol slumped against the wall, chest heaving, his body trembling as if it had been wrung out completely. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by their ragged breaths.
Shakily, he pulled out and started putting himself back together, pulling the condom off, throwing it in the trash, fumbling with his clothes, his fingers clumsy and unsteady.
Then the hand returned. The silver ring caught the light once more, the fingers brushing briefly against the divider in a fleeting, tender touch.
And then it was gone.
Seungcheol stood there, breathless, weak-kneed, and completely undone.
—-----------------
Seungcheol splashed water on his face before leaving the bathroom, but it did nothing to cool the fire running under his skin. His legs still felt shaky as he made his way back down the hall.
The booth was just as he’d left it, Minjae laughing too loudly, Taehyun halfway through telling some story with his hands. Nobody even glanced up when Seungcheol slid back into his seat.
He forced a crooked smile, lifted his glass, pretended nothing had happened. The conversation washed over him, the jokes, the laughter, the music.
But inside, his body still buzzed. His chest still heaved with the echo of the stall. His mind still rang with the stranger’s noises, the weight of the silver ring pressing against his skin.
And this time, it wasn’t just guilt twisting in his gut.
It was anticipation.
—----------------------
Later, back at the dorm, the others were already winding down for the night. A few greetings were tossed his way, but Seungcheol muttered something vague and slipped straight into his room.
He shut the door softly behind him, kicked off his shoes, and collapsed onto his bed. The ceiling stared back at him, blank and merciless.
His throat was dry. His body was heavy. And yet he couldn’t stop the whisper that slipped from his lips, raw and aching.
“Who are you?”
The dark gave no answer.
But Seungcheol knew. He knew he’d go back again.