Chapter Text
Sangwon knew he should’ve focused on his studies during exam season, but he couldn’t help it.
The kiss was only a week and a half ago. Anxin had said it was a mistake only a week ago. So God forbid he couldn't focus.
His textbook sat open in front of him, same page it had been on for the last hour. Something about cellular respiration. He'd read the same paragraph seven times and still couldn't tell you a single thing it said.
Instead, his brain kept replaying other things.
Anxin's face, inches from his. Anxin's hands grabbing his shirt. Anxin's mouth on his, warm and desperate and real.
Anxin's voice, three days later, It was a mistake.
Sangwon pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.
It didn't make sense. None of it made sense. Anxin had come to his door. Anxin had kissed him. Anxin had said I love you like it was the most natural thing in the world. And Sangwon — Sangwon who had spent years loving someone else, Sangwon who didn't know how to love anyone back — had said I'll try.
Had meant it. Had wanted it more than he'd wanted anything in a long time.
And then he had just... walked away.
It was a mistake.
The words played on a loop in his head. Anxin's flat voice. His blank face. The way he wouldn't meet Sangwon's eyes.
It shouldn't have happened.
Sangwon had replayed that conversation a thousand times. Had analysed every word, every pause, every micro-expression. Had tried to find the lie in it, the crack, the sign that Anxin didn't actually mean what he was saying.
He hadn't found one.
But he also couldn't forget the way Anxin had looked at him before. The way his eyes had gone soft and wondering every time Sangwon laughed.
People didn't look at you like that and then decide it was a mistake. Did they?
Sangwon didn't know anymore. He felt like he didn't know anything.
His phone buzzed. He grabbed it before he could think — some pathetic part of him still hoping it was Anxin, still hoping for an explanation, an apology, anything.
geonwoo-jjang ⭐️
u better be studying
Me
i literally am!!
geonwoo-jjang ⭐️
liar
long says u been on the same page for like thirty mins
Me
tell ur bf to mind his own business
and tell him i can kick him out of the council room anytime :P
geonwoo-jjang ⭐️
not my bf
r u abusing your title student prez
booooooooo down with the dictators
Me
nope
also not ur bf bs!
geonwoo-jjang ⭐️
wanna talk about whats up w u?
Sangwon's thumbs hovered over the keyboard. He wanted to. God, he wanted to. Wanted to tell someone how much this was killing him, how he couldn't eat or sleep or think, how every time he closed his eyes he saw Anxin's face — both versions. The one kissing him and the one walking away.
But he didn't know how to say any of that. Didn't know how to make the chaos in his head into words.
Me
cant im studying
geonwoo-jjang ⭐️
now thats true bullshit
whatever
just know im here ok
Me
i know <3
Sangwon set the phone down. Picked his textbook back up. Stared at the same paragraph about cellular respiration.
It was a mistake.
He read the paragraph again. Retained nothing.
It shouldn't have happened.
Sangwon closed the book. Pressed his forehead against it. Let himself feel, just for a moment, how much this hurt.
A week and a half ago, he was happy.
And now he was supposed to study for his exams like any of it mattered.
He didn't move for a long time. Just sat there, forehead on his textbook, breathing. The room was quiet. Somewhere down the hall, he could hear faint laughter walking towards the council room — Sanghyeon's loud cackle, probably at something stupid. Anxin's laugh wasn't among them. Anxin was in another room, on the other side of the building, pretending Sangwon didn't exist.
Sangwon wondered if Anxin was struggling too. If he was lying awake at night replaying the same moments. If he regretted it.
He'd probably never know.
Eventually, he sat up. Forced himself to read.
The words still didn't stick. But at least he was trying.
That was something. Right?
📍
Jeju was supposed to be a break. A break away from everything.
That's what Geonwoo had said when he suggested it. Exams were over, the semester was done, and they all needed to get out of Seoul. Just a few days by the ocean, nothing planned, nowhere to be. A chance to breathe.
Sangwon had agreed because it was easier than saying no. Because saying no meant staying in Seoul. And he thought he’d be with Leo, and Geonwoo, and Sanghyeon, so distance might help. Thought the ocean might clear his head, give him space to figure out what he was going to do about the thing that had been sitting in his chest.
But no. He didn’t have time to figure it out. Because Anxin was here too.
Of course Anxin was here. He was part of the group. And Sangwon was supposed to spend days in a house by the beach with the person who had kissed him and then called it a mistake, the person who laughed too loud and wore clothes that made him look soft.
It was fine. Everything was fine.
📍
They approached Sangwon first. Of course he noticed them coming up to him. He noticed everything these days, hyperaware of every movement, every glance, every whisper that might be about him and Anxin. About how badly he'd fucked everything up.
He didn't look up from his book. Couldn't. If he looked up, they'd see it in his eyes — the exhaustion, the hurt, the constant dull ache that had taken up residence in his chest. So he kept his head down, pretended to read, pretended he didn't notice his two friends circling him like concerned mother hens. His shoulders tightened anyway. Couldn't help that.
"Hey," Geonwoo said, dropping onto the couch beside him. A beat later, Xinlong took the other side, boxing him in with their presence.
Sangwon's eyes flicked between them. "You guys are being weird."
"We're being friendly," Geonwoo corrected.
"Sure…?" He didn't sound convinced. Because he wasn't. They were ganging up on him, which meant they wanted something.
"So." Xinlong leaned back, trying to look casual. It didn't work. "Nice place, right? Very... Korean traditional."
Sangwon stared at him. "You want to ask me something," he said flatly. "Just ask."
Geonwoo and Xinlong exchanged a glance. Sangwon watched them have a whole conversation with their eyebrows. It would have been funny, once. Before everything. Xinlong nodded slightly.
"What happened?" Geonwoo asked, voice soft. "Between you and Anxin."
Sangwon's chest tightened. He'd known this was coming. Known they'd notice, known they'd ask, known he'd have to say the words out loud eventually. He'd been dreading it for weeks.
He was quiet for a long moment. Long enough that his fingers started to ache from gripping the book too hard. He forced himself to relax, to breathe, to put his bookmark in like a normal person before closing it. "Nothing happened," he said finally.
It was a lie. They'd know it was a lie. But he had to try.
"That's not true," Xinlong said quietly. "We've seen you two. Something's different."
Sangwon's jaw tightened. He could feel it — the crack forming, the carefully constructed wall starting to give way. He'd been holding this in for so long. Weeks of silence, of pretending, of smiling through the pain while Anxin acted like nothing had happened. Like they had never happened.
He was so tired.
"We argued," he said. The words came out before he could stop them. "Then we kissed."
The words hung in the air. Geonwoo's eyes went wide.
Sangwon stared at the wall across from him. If he looked at them, he knew he'd break completely. "We argued the day of your exhibition, Xinlong." His voice was flat but strained. He could hear it, the way it wavered at the edges. "Then we kissed the next day. In my room. He just... leaned over and I kissed him. And then he ran."
"Ran?" Geonwoo echoed.
"Left." Sangwon's throat tightened. "Didn't talk to me. When he finally did, he acted like nothing happened. Like it was a mistake. Like I was a mistake."
His hands tightened around his book. The cover was digging into his palms. He didn't care. "That's it."
The silence stretched. Sangwon could feel them looking at him, could feel the weight of their concern pressing in from both sides. He wanted to disappear. Wanted to sink into the floor and never have to talk about this again.
But Xinlong's voice came, soft and careful. "Will it get better?"
Sangwon met his eyes. Xinlong's face was open, worried, full of that quiet understanding that had made him such a good friend. He deserved honesty. "I don't know." Sangwon's voice cracked. "We've been fighting a lot. Like a lot."
Geonwoo reached out, resting a hand on his shoulder. Sangwon didn't shrug it off. He couldn't. He needed this too much. "We're here," he said quietly. "Whatever happens. We're here."
Sangwon nodded. Just slightly. His eyes were bright — too bright, burning with the tears he wouldn't let himself shed. Sangwon never cried. Not in front of them. Not in front of anyone.
Xinlong was quiet for a moment, staring at nothing. When he spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper, "I hope you guys figure it out. Before it's too late."
Sangwon looked at him. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Hopefully."
He didn't believe it.
But he wanted to. God, he wanted to.
📍
Sangwon kept his distance.
It wasn't hard. The house was big enough, and there were enough people, and Anxin seemed to be making a point of not being alone with him. Sangwon watched Anxin help Jiahao with dinner, watched him argue with Sanghyeon about everything, watched him run down to the water with Xinlong, shoes in hand, laughing at the cold. Watched the way his hair caught the wind, the way his face was open and unguarded in a way it hadn't been in Seoul.
He looked lighter here. Freer.
Sometimes Sangwon watched him. A little part of him wanted to be the reason for that lightness. Wanted it so badly it ached.
He didn't say anything. Didn't know how. Didn't know if he had the right.
📍
Anxin was precious to him. Would always be precious.
That much Sangwon knew with absolute certainty, the way he knew his own name, the way he knew the weight of years of loving someone who would never love him back. Anxin had carved out a space in his chest that belonged to no one else — not Leo, not Geonwoo, not anyone. It was Anxin's, whether Sangwon was ready to admit what that meant or not.
But he didn't know if he could love Anxin the way he wanted him to. The way Anxin deserved to be loved.
That was the thing that kept him up at night, staring at ceilings, running through the same questions over and over. Was his love for him the kind of love Anxin wanted? The kind Anxin deserved? Or was it just... something else. Something smaller. Something that would never be enough.
He didn't know. He'd been trying to figure it out for weeks and he still didn't know.
📍
Sangwon woke up to the sound of the ocean.
For a moment, he forgot where he was. The light was different here — softer, grey with the promise of rain, filtering through curtains he didn't recognize. The bed was unfamiliar, the room too quiet, and for a second, he didn't remember why his chest felt so heavy. Geonwoo’s light snoring and Xinlong’s quiet breathing next to him pushed him back to reality.
Jeju. The trip. Anxin, two doors down, pretending Sangwon didn't exist.
He lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, listening to the distant crash of waves. Outside, the sky was doing something complicated — clouds rolling in, the light shifting from grey to gold and back again. A storm was coming. He could feel it in the air, the pressure change, the way everything was holding its breath.
His mouth was dry. He'd forgotten to drink water before bed, too busy staring at the ceiling, replaying the same thoughts he'd been carrying for weeks. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, padded barefoot to the door, and slipped out into the hallway.
The house was quiet. Everyone else was still asleep, the kind of deep sleep that came after days of sun and playing in the ocean. Sangwon made his way to the kitchen, poured himself a glass of water, and stood by the window, watching the ocean churn.
He should go back to bed. Should try to sleep, try to clear his head, try to figure out what he was going to do about the thing that had been sitting in his chest since he walked out of that common room.
Instead, he found himself walking toward the living room.
He wasn't looking for Anxin. He told himself he wasn't looking for Anxin. But when he rounded the corner and saw him sitting on the floor, back against the couch, phone in hand, his heart did something he couldn't control.
Anxin looked up. Their eyes met.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The morning light filtered through the windows, catching in Anxin's hair, softening the lines of his face. He looked tired. There were shadows under his eyes that hadn't been there before.
Sangwon should go back to his room. Should stop standing here like an idiot, waiting for something he didn't know how to ask for.
He sat down on the floor. Not next to Anxin — a few feet away, close enough to feel his presence, far enough to pretend this was casual. Anxin didn't look at him. Didn't acknowledge him at all. Just kept scrolling through his phone, his thumb moving without purpose.
Sangwon didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say. He never knew what to say anymore. He just sat there. In the quiet. In the grey light. In the space between them that felt like miles and inches all at once.
He hadn't been this close to Anxin in weeks.
He could smell Anxin's shampoo. Something flowery. Could see the way his hoodie was too big on him, sleeves falling over his hands. Could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he was holding himself like he was waiting for something.
Or maybe Sangwon was projecting. Maybe Anxin wasn't waiting for anything. Maybe Anxin had stopped waiting weeks ago, the day he said it was a mistake and walked away.
"You're staring," Anxin said quietly. He didn't look up from his phone.
Sangwon's throat tightened. "Sorry."
"Don't be. I’m flattered.” The words could have been teasing. They weren't.
Sangwon watched Anxin's thumb scroll through nothing, not really looking at whatever was on his screen. Watched the way his jaw was set, the way his breathing was just a little too even, like he was forcing himself to stay calm.
He wanted to say something. Wanted to bridge the space between them, fill the silence with something that wasn't this. But every word he thought of felt wrong. Inadequate. Not enough. Like he was, for someone like him. "Anxin — "
"I'm going to get some air." Anxin stood up quickly. "It's stuffy in here."
He was gone before Sangwon could say anything else.
📍
Sangwon found Anxin on the back deck right before they were about to leave for dinner watching the ocean. He was hugging himself for warmth, his hoodie doing nothing against the wind. His hair was damp from earlier events on the beach, curling at the edges, and when Sangwon stepped out, he didn't turn around.
"You're going to get sick," Sangwon said.
Anxin shrugged. "Probably."
Sangwon should go back inside. He didn't move. "I miss you," he just said. The words came out before he could stop them. They hung in the air, raw and real.
Anxin's shoulders tensed. "Hyung — "
"I miss you," Sangwon repeated. His voice was rough. "I miss the way you used to follow me around. I miss the way you'd laugh at your own jokes when no one else did. I miss — " He stopped. Swallowed. "I miss you. Now. All the time."
Anxin didn't turn around. His grip on his own arms tightened.
"You said it was a mistake," Sangwon continued. "The kiss. What we were trying to be. You said it was a mistake and I've been trying to accept that. I've been trying to let you go. But I can't — " His voice cracked. "I can't, Anxin. I've been trying and I can't."
"You don't get to do this." Anxin's voice was small. Wrecked. "You don't get to say things like that when I'm finally trying to move on."
Sangwon's heart stopped. "Move on?"
"I can't keep waiting." Anxin finally turned. His eyes were red, wet, but his jaw was set. "I can't keep hoping you'll figure out what you feel. I can't keep being the person who loves you while you're still in love with someone else. I told you it was a mistake because I needed it to be. Because if it wasn't a mistake, then it was something real, and if it was something real, then you chose him anyway."
"I didn't choose him — "
"You didn't choose me." Anxin's voice cracked. "That's the same thing, hyung. You didn't choose him, but you also didn’t choose me."
The words hit like a physical blow.
Anxin stepped closer, and for the first time, Sangwon saw how much this had cost him. The dark circles under his eyes. The way his hands were shaking. The way his whole body was held together by something that looked a lot like breaking. "I waited," he said. "I waited for months. I followed you around like a shadow. And you — " His voice broke. "You kissed me. You said you'd try. And for a few days, I let myself believe that maybe — maybe this time — " He stopped. Pressed his hand against his mouth.
"And then you said it was a mistake," Sangwon whispered.
"Because I was scared." Anxin's laugh was bitter, hollow. "I was so scared, hyung. I kissed you and you said you'd try and I thought — I thought maybe that was enough. Maybe trying was enough. And then I went home and I couldn't sleep and all I could think about was Leo-hyung. About how you'd loved him for years. About how I was just someone you were trying to love because you couldn't have him."
"That's not true."
"Isn't it?" Anxin's eyes were bright with tears. "You still love him. You're always going to love him. And I've been trying so hard to be okay with that. To be okay with being second. To be okay with you trying instead of knowing. But I can't." His voice broke. "I can't keep being the person you're trying to love when you don't even know if you do."
Sangwon's chest was cracking open. "Anxin — "
"Do you love me?" Anxin asked. The question hung between them, raw and impossible. "Not 'starting to.' Not 'trying to.' Do you love me, hyung?"
The silence stretched.
Sangwon opened his mouth. He wanted to say yes, I do.
But the words wouldn't come.
Anxin's face crumpled. "That's what I thought." He wiped his eyes roughly.
"Anxin — "
"You're the worst. You’re so selfish, hyung." Anxin's voice was quiet now. Tired. "You're so, so selfish. You want me with you because it's comfortable. Because I make you feel less alone. I make you feel wanted. Because I've been here this whole time, waiting, hoping, loving you, and you don't have to do anything to keep me. You just have to exist. And I'll stay. Because I love you. Because I've always loved you."
Sangwon felt the words like knives. Because they were true. Because he was selfish. Because he'd been so busy trying to figure out what he felt that he hadn't stopped to think about what Anxin felt. About what he was doing to him.
"You said you always want me with you," Anxin continued. "And I believed you. I thought… I thought that meant something. But wanting me with you isn't the same as wanting me. I can't — " His voice broke. "I can't keep being someone you keep around because you don't know how to let go."
Sangwon reached for him. "Please — "
Anxin stepped back. "No."
The word stopped Sangwon cold.
Anxin looked at him with red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks and something in his expression that Sangwon had never seen before. Not anger. Not even hurt. Just... tired. So, so tired. "I love you," he said quietly. "I've loved you for so long I don't remember what it felt like before. But I can't keep doing this. I can't keep being your shadow while you love someone else."
"Anxin — "
"I need you to let me go." Anxin's voice cracked. "If you don't know. If you're not sure. Let me go."
The rain was coming down harder now, the wind whipping it under the overhang, dampening their clothes. Sangwon stood frozen, watching the person he loved — the person he loved, he knew he loved him, why couldn't he just say it — walk toward the door. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
Anxin paused at the door. Didn't turn around. "Me too," he said quietly. "I'm sorry too."
The door slid shut behind him.
Sangwon stood alone on the deck, the wind cold against his skin. Somewhere inside, Anxin was probably heading to his room, putting distance between them, finally doing what Sangwon had been too selfish to do himself.
He didn't know how long he stood there. You're selfish.
He was. He knew he was. He'd been so focused on his own confusion, his own uncertainty, his own years of loving someone else, that he hadn't seen what he was doing to Anxin. Hadn't seen the toll it was taking. Hadn't seen that every time he said I don't know, Anxin was hearing you're not enough for me.
You’re not him.
But that wasn't what he meant. That had never been what he meant.
Sangwon turned toward the door. His heart was pounding. His hands were shaking. He didn't have a plan. Didn't have the right words. Didn't know if Anxin would even listen. But he knew, suddenly, with absolute certainty, that he couldn't let Anxin walk away.
He slid the door open. The Airbnb was quiet — everyone else must have retreated to their rooms, leaving the living room empty, the movie still playing on a screen no one was watching. Sangwon walked through it without seeing it, his feet carrying him toward the hallway, toward the door he knew was Anxin's.
He stopped in front of it. Raised his hand to knock.
And hesitated.
What was he going to say? That he loved him? That he'd finally figured it out? That he was sorry it took him so long, sorry he was selfish, sorry for every time he'd made Anxin feel like he wasn't enough?
It wasn't enough. None of it was enough. Anxin had waited for months. Anxin had loved him without any of the things Sangwon had been so afraid to give. And Sangwon had given him nothing but hesitation and half-truths and I don't know.
Anxin deserved better than that. He always had.
Sangwon lowered his hand.
He stood there for a long time. He didn't knock.
He couldn't.
📍
A nose piercing.
A tiny silver hoop, glinting in the afternoon light. Nestled in the curve of Anxin's nostril. New.
Sangwon's brain short-circuited. The world narrowed to the way it moved when Anxin spoke, the way it caught the light when he tilted his head, the way it sat against his skin like it had always been there, like Sangwon had just never noticed before.
He'd noticed. He would have noticed.
"Oh." Sanghyeon tilted his head. "Yeah. There's something in your nose."
Anxin's expression flickered. "It's not just something."
"If you said you liked shopping with me maybe I would've noticed it earlier." Sanghyeon stuck out his tongue.
Anxin rolled his eyes, but there was a smile tugging at his mouth. "Boo-hoo. But seriously, Long-ge has shit in his ears. I have a metal hoop in my face."
Sangwon watched the way Anxin's hand came up to touch the piercing again. Watched the way his whole body seemed to lean into Sanghyeon's attention, hungry for it in a way that made Sangwon's chest ache.
"The nose piercing is more visible," Leo said. "But we noticed Xinlong first 'cause he asked."
"The stars are cuter," Sanghyeon grinned.
Anxin's face crumpled in mock outrage. "I hate all of you." He was smiling, though his words were different. That bright, unguarded smile that made his whole face light up.
Sangwon's hands clenched at his sides.
Jiahao crossed the space between them, stepping close to Anxin to examine the piercing properly. His fingers hovered near Anxin's face. Sangwon watched Anxin's eyes flutter closed for a moment, watched the way he leaned into the attention. "It does suit you, Xin-ah," Jiahao commented. "Very you."
Anxin brightened slightly. "Really?" And then he laughed, bright and unguarded, and the sound went straight through Sangwon's chest. He couldn't look away from the piercing. From the tiny silver hoop that made him want to cross the room and —
What? What did he want to do?
He didn't know. He couldn't think. His hands were clenched on his knees. His jaw was tight. His whole body was rigid, like he was physically restraining himself from doing something he couldn't name.
Because Anxin looked — Anxin looked —
Beautiful. That was the word. Anxin looked beautiful. But that wasn't new. Sangwon had known Anxin was beautiful since the first day he walked into the study room, all curved eyes and shy smiles and the kind of light that made Sangwon want to stop hiding.
He wanted to cross the room. He wanted to touch it. Wanted to brush his thumb against the silver hoop, feel if it was warm from Anxin's skin, wanted to see Anxin's eyes go wide and wondering, wanted to —
Wanted to kiss him again.
Sangwon stood up. He didn't plan it. His body just moved, like something else was driving. He needed to get out. Needed air. From the way his own chest was caving in. He walked out without looking back. The Airbnb’s hallway was empty. Quiet. Sangwon leaned against the wall, pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, and tried to breathe.
A nose piercing.
He was losing his mind over a nose piercing.
Sangwon pressed his palms harder against his eyes.
Jesus Christ.
📍
The trip was over. Jeju was way behind them. Sangwon was no closer to figuring out what he was supposed to do. He'd managed to snag a window seat, which meant he could press his forehead against the cool glass and pretend he was alone. Pretend he wasn't acutely aware of where everyone was sitting. Leo and Jiahao, three rows up, Jiahao's head on Leo's shoulder.
A year ago, it would have cracked something open in his chest. Six months ago, he would have had to look away. Even a few weeks ago, before Jeju, before the kiss, before everything — there would have been an ache there. A dull, familiar throb that he'd carried for so long he'd forgotten what it felt like to not have it.
But now, he felt it instead when he looked at —
Anxin. Sitting with Xinlong. Anxin, who had laughed too loud at breakfast this morning, who had avoided Sangwon's eyes, who was probably, right now, pretending Sangwon didn't exist.
Sangwon closed his eyes. The hum of the train filled his ears.
The seat beside him creaked.
He didn't open his eyes. "Why are you here? What about your boyfriend?" He didn’t specify who. They both knew who he was talking about.
"He's with Anxin." The seat shifted as Geonwoo settled in. "They're talking about exams or something. I got bored."
Sangwon opened his eyes. Turned his head just enough to see Geonwoo beside him, arms crossed, staring straight ahead at the back of the seat in front of them. His expression was carefully neutral, the way it always was when he was about to say something he didn't want to admit he cared about.
"You could sit with Sanghyeon," Sangwon offered.
"Sanghyeon's snoring."
"Ah."
Silence. The train swayed. Somewhere behind them, Anxin laughed. He felt it in his chest before he heard it, the way he always did.
Geonwoo was quiet for a long moment. "Why aren't you sitting with Anxin, hm?"
Sangwon's throat closed. "He's not — "
"Not what?" Geonwoo turned to look at him. His eyes were sharp, seeing in a way that made Sangwon want to look away. "Not talking to you? Then talk to him. You can't face him because you kissed?"
Sangwon's jaw tightened. "That's not — "
"Fair? Sure,” Geonwoo's voice wasn't unkind, but it was firm. "Won-ah, I've known you long enough to know when you're lying to yourself. And you've been lying to yourself for a long time."
Sangwon stared at him. The landscape blurred. Somewhere behind them, Anxin laughed again. "I don't know what you want me to say," he said finally. His voice came out rougher than he intended.
"You should stop pretending." Geonwoo leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms again. "Pretending that you don’t feel anything for him. Stop looking at him as someone you're trying to love because you think you should. Just see him for… him. Not someone else."
The words hit differently than Geonwoo probably intended. Sangwon's hands tightened in his lap. Someone else. Geonwoo didn't say a name, but Sangwon heard it anyway, loud and clear in the silence between them.
Leo. Always Leo.
"I do see him," Sangwon said quietly.
"Then why are you letting him pretend you don't exist?" Geonwoo's voice softened. "Because from where I'm sitting, you've been watching him for days. And he's been watching you too. Waiting. The same way you used to — " He stopped abruptly.
Sangwon turned to look at him. "The same way I used to what?"
Geonwoo's jaw tightened. For a moment, he looked like he was debating whether to say it. "The same way you used to watch someone else."
The words hung in the air. Sangwon's heart was suddenly too loud in his chest. Geonwoo didn't know. He'd never told anyone — except Anxin — but definitely not Geonwoo, not Sanghyeon, not anyone. Geonwoo was looking at him now with those sharp, seeing eyes, and Sangwon realised, with a clarity that made his stomach drop, that he didn't need to be told. It was obvious to him.
"You knew," Sangwon whispered.
Geonwoo didn't deny it. Didn't look away. "I guessed," he said quietly. "The way you looked at him. The way you never looked at anyone else." He paused. "I didn't say anything because it wasn't my place. And because — " He stopped.
"Because what?"
"Because you and I both know I know how it feels to love someone who doesn’t love me back."
The train swayed. Somewhere behind them, Anxin’s loud voice travelled all the way, saying something in Mandarin, and Sangwon felt it like a crack in his chest. All this time. All these years of carrying this thing alone, thinking no one knew, thinking he'd hidden it so well. And Geonwoo had known. Had guessed. Had watched Sangwon love Leo from a distance, the same way Sangwon had watched Geonwoo love Xinlong. Even if the other hadn't been aware of his own feelings.
"I'm sorry," Sangwon exhaled out.
Geonwoo's eyebrow lifted. "For what?"
"For not telling you. For — " He stopped, shaking his head. "I don't know. Everything."
Geonwoo was quiet for a moment. Then — "You don't have to apologise for loving someone, Won-ah. Even if they never loved you back. Even if it takes you too long to let go. That's not something to be sorry for."
Sangwon's eyes burned. He blinked, hard, staring at the seat in front of him until the blurriness faded.
"Love makes you a little stupid, sometimes," Geonwoo continued. "And if you continue being stupid, you're going to lose what's right in front of you if you don't figure it out soon."
Sangwon turned to look at him. Geonwoo's expression was serious, but there was something else there too — something that looked like understanding.
Of course he would understand. Of course. "I know," he said quietly.
"Do you?" Geonwoo leaned forward, elbows on his knees, voice low so only Sangwon could hear. "Because from where I'm sitting, you've got someone who looks at you the way you used to look at hyung. Someone who's been waiting for you to see him.”
Anxin. Looking at him the way Sangwon used to look at Leo. Waiting. Hoping. Slowly dying inside every time Sangwon didn't choose him.
Sangwon had lived that. Had spent years being that person. And now he was doing the same thing to Anxin — making him wait, making him hope, making him feel like he was second place to someone who would never love him back. "I'm scared," Sangwon admitted. His voice was barely audible over the hum of the train. "If I had to be honest."
Geonwoo's hand landed on his shoulder, warm and solid. "I know."
"I've loved him for so long. I don't know how to stop."
"Maybe you just have to make room." Geonwoo's voice was quiet. “For something else. For someone who actually wants you back."
Sangwon stared at him for a long moment. "You know," he said slowly, "I thought I was supposed to be the therapist friend."
Geonwoo's eyebrow lifted. "Excuse me?"
"The one who sits there being wise and mysterious while everyone else falls apart." Sangwon gestured vaguely between them. "When did you become the one telling me to get my shit together?"
Geonwoo's mouth twitched. "Maybe I learned from watching you."
"That's — " Sangwon blinked. "That's actually really sweet. What the hell?"
"I’m a nuanced individual."
A silence settled between them, but it was different now. Lighter. The tension that had been coiled in Sangwon's chest for weeks easing, just slightly.
"You're really bad at taking your own advice, though," Geonwoo added.
Sangwon let out a short laugh. It came out surprised, almost rusty, like he hadn't used the sound in a while. "I'm aware."
"Like. Really bad."
"I said I'm aware."
"You told me to stop chasing Xinlong and let him come to me." Geonwoo's voice was dry. "And he did. But then you spent days in Jeju looking at Xin with your eyes and doing absolutely nothing about it."
"That's different."
"How?"
"Because — " He stopped. Because it wasn't different. It was exactly the same. The same fear, the same waiting, the same paralysis that had kept him stuck for years.
Geonwoo was watching him with something that might have been amusement, might have been pity, might have been both. "So what I'm hearing is that you're a hypocrite."
"I'm not — " Sangwon rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm a hypocrite."
"Wow." Geonwoo leaned back in his seat, arms crossing, but there was a ghost of a smile on his face now. "You admitted that way faster than I thought you would."
Sangwon stared at him. And then, despite everything — despite the mess with Anxin, despite the fear still coiled tight in his chest — he laughed. A real laugh, surprised out of him, cracking through the grey afternoon like light through clouds. Geonwoo's smile widened, just a fraction. "I hate you," he said, but there was no heat in it.
"No you don't."
"No," Sangwon admitted. "Thank you."
Geonwoo shrugged. "What are friends for?"
The train sped on toward Seoul. The afternoon light was shifting, the grey clouds breaking apart, the first pale gold of sunset starting to bleed through. Sangwon watched it for a moment, watched the way it caught on the seats, the windows, the sleeping shape of Sanghyeon across the aisle.
And then he turned. Looked back, through the gap between seats, toward where Anxin was sitting with Xinlong.
Anxin was already looking at him.