Chapter Text
Act 3: "Can Still Smell Your Perfume You Used to Wear"
Seokmin knew the date went well.
That was the problem.
It went well.
Objectively.
Technically.
By every normal measurement, it was a success.
They smiled when they saw him. They laughed at his jokes. They asked him questions and listened to the answers like they actually wanted to know him, not the bright, loud, polished version of him people usually expected.
They were kind.
Pretty.
Easy to talk to.
When Seokmin stumbled over his words ordering, they smiled and said it was cute.
When he apologized too much, they told him he didn’t have to.
When his knee bounced under the table, they noticed and gently asked, “Nervous?”
Seokmin laughed.
A little too quickly.
“Maybe.”
They smiled again.
“You don’t have to be.”
That was a sweet thing to say.
It should have settled something in him.
It didn’t.
Not fully.
Not the way Joshua’s voice settled him.
That was the first wrong thought.
Seokmin looked down at his glass immediately, like the thought had appeared somewhere visible on the table.
No.
Not tonight.
Tonight was not about Joshua.
Tonight was about the person sitting across from him, looking at him with warm eyes and careful attention. Tonight was about the crush he had been nurturing for weeks, the nervousness, the planning, the way everyone had teased him at dinner until his ears burned.
Tonight was supposed to be proof.
Proof that he could want someone normally.
Proof that not everything important in his life had to orbit Joshua Hong.
The waiter came by with their food, and Seokmin almost knocked over his water reaching to make space.
His date laughed.
Not cruelly.
Gently.
The way people laughed when they liked you enough to find your clumsiness charming.
Seokmin smiled back.
See?
It was fine.
He was fine.
This was good.
Then the waiter mispronounced one of the dishes so badly Seokmin nearly choked trying not to laugh.
His first instinct was to reach for his phone.
To text Joshua.
*You would not believe what just happened.*
His hand was already halfway to his pocket before he remembered.
Date.
Right.
He was on a date.
The kind of date he had asked Joshua how to dress for.
The kind of date Joshua had wished him luck for.
The kind of date Joshua had smiled through with that soft, steady face of his.
Seokmin put his hand back on the table.
His date tilted their head.
“Everything okay?”
Seokmin smiled quickly.
“Yeah. Sorry. Habit.”
Habit.
That was one word for it.
A small, harmless word.
A word that didn’t explain how Joshua had become the first place every thought in Seokmin’s head wanted to go.
The shirt was the second problem.
Joshua’s shirt.
Seokmin hadn’t meant to wear it.
Probably.
He had tried on three other things first.
The black jacket felt too serious.
The denim one felt too casual.
The green sweater made him look, according to Mingyu, “approachable,” which had made Seokmin panic because what did approachable mean? Was it approachable and romantic? Was approachable boring? Did people want to be approachable on a first date or did they want to be mysterious? Could Seokmin even be mysterious?
Probably not.
He smiled too much.
He talked too much.
He existed too loudly.
Then he saw the blue button-down hanging over the back of his chair.
Joshua’s.
Soft from too many washes.
Faintly familiar.
Seokmin had put it on before thinking too hard.
And when he saw himself in the mirror, something in his chest had settled.
Not excitement.
Not exactly.
Comfort.
That should have been a warning.
Instead, he called Joshua.
Because of course he did.
Because Joshua always answered.
Because Joshua always knew what to do when Seokmin felt too big for his own body.
Because Joshua’s voice through the phone made the world arrange itself into something manageable again.
And Joshua had answered.
Tired.
Quiet.
But there.
Always there.
Seokmin could still hear him.
It looks good.
Seokmin believed him instantly.
That was another thing.
He did not believe himself easily. Compliments slid off him half the time, especially when he was nervous. He could be praised by stylists, members, fans, friends, and still circle back to the mirror wondering if he was too much.
But Joshua said, "It looks good," and Seokmin stopped questioning it.
The shirt looked good because Joshua said it did.
The black pants worked because Joshua said they did.
The perfume wasn’t too much because Joshua said it was fine.
Joshua knew him.
That was what Seokmin had said, wasn’t it?
You do.
He had meant it as a simple thing.
Warm.
Grateful.
Obvious.
Now, sitting across from someone he was supposed to want, Seokmin kept catching faint traces of Joshua on his own sleeve.
Laundry detergent.
Clean fabric.
Something warm underneath.
Not perfume.
Not cologne.
Just Joshua.
Impossible, probably.
Ridiculous, definitely.
But there anyway.
Seokmin lifted his glass and tried not to breathe through his nose too deeply.
His date was saying something about a movie they loved.
Seokmin nodded.
He listened.
He really did.
But his thumb brushed unconsciously over the cuff of the shirt, and the fabric was soft against his skin, and all he could think was—
Joshua wore this first.
Joshua’s hands had buttoned these buttons.
Joshua’s collarbone had rested under this collar.
Joshua had looked at him through a screen, tired and beautiful and kind, and still helped him get ready for somebody else.
Something in Seokmin’s chest pulled tight.
He smiled wider to make up for it.
His date smiled back.
That made it worse.
After dinner, they walked along the river.
The air was cold enough to sting, and Seokmin kept tucking his hands into the sleeves of Joshua’s shirt.
His date noticed.
“You’re cold?”
“A little.”
“Do you want my jacket?”
Seokmin shook his head quickly.
“No, no. I’m okay.”
It was kind of them to offer.
It was a good offer.
Normal.
Sweet.
The kind of thing he was supposed to feel touched by.
Instead, his brain supplied an image so fast he almost stumbled.
Joshua, wordless, placed a jacket around Seokmin’s shoulders without asking.
Joshua, pretending not to be cold after.
Joshua, saying, *You’ll complain less if I do this.*
Joshua, smiling when Seokmin called him mean.
Seokmin swallowed.
His date slowed beside him.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes,” Seokmin said.
Too fast.
They didn’t call him out on it.
Joshua would have.
That was the problem.
Joshua would have looked at him once and known.
Not guessed.
Known.
He would have tilted his head and said, *What’s wrong?*
And Seokmin would have lied.
And Joshua would have waited.
Because Joshua always waited him out.
Because Joshua knew the shape of Seokmin’s silences better than Seokmin did.
The river glittered beside them.
The city was beautiful.
The person beside him was beautiful.
The night was beautiful.
So why did Seokmin feel like he had left something behind?
No.
Not something.
Someone.
He hated himself a little for thinking about it.
His date looked up at him then, smiling shyly.
“I had a good time.”
Seokmin smiled automatically.
“Me too.”
It wasn’t a lie.
That was what made everything confusing.
He had enjoyed himself.
He liked them.
He liked the way they listened. The way they teased him lightly when he got flustered. The way they looked at him like he was worth being nervous around.
So why did he feel like he was standing slightly outside his own life?
Like he was watching someone else have the evening he had been excited for?
His date stepped closer.
Not too close.
Just enough.
Seokmin understood what was supposed to happen next.
He had wanted this.
Hadn’t he?
He had thought about it for days.
Asked Joshua what to wear.
Rehearsed lines in the mirror.
Sprayed perfume twice, then panicked and almost changed.
He had imagined this moment.
The quiet after.
The first kiss.
The confirmation that everything he had been feeling was real.
His date looked at his mouth.
Seokmin’s heartbeat picked up.
There.
Finally.
This was supposed to be the click.
The proof.
The music swelling.
The breathless certainty.
His date leaned in.
And Seokmin’s first thought was—
Josh.
He turned his head at the last second.
The kiss landed near the corner of his mouth.
Gentle.
Awkward.
Wrong.
His date pulled back immediately.
Seokmin’s stomach dropped.
“I’m sorry,” he said, horrified.
“No, it’s okay.”
“It’s not— I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay,” they repeated, softer this time.
But it wasn’t.
They both knew it.
Seokmin’s hands curled into the sleeves of Joshua’s shirt.
His date noticed.
Their eyes dropped to the fabric for half a second.
Then back to his face.
And somehow, horribly, they understood something before Seokmin did.
“There’s someone else,” they said.
Seokmin froze.
“No.”
The denial came too quickly.
Too loudly.
They gave him a sad little smile.
“Seokmin.”
“No, I mean, there isn’t. I’m not dating anyone. I’m not—”
His voice cracked around nothing.
He stopped.
Because that wasn’t what they meant.
And he knew it.
His date looked at him gently.
“That’s not what I asked.”
The cold air moved between them.
Seokmin opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
What could he say?
There’s someone, but there isn’t.
There’s no one.
There’s Joshua.
He’s my best friend.
He’s just my best friend.
I called him before coming here.
I’m wearing his shirt.
I almost kissed you and thought of his name.
I think I brought him with me.
I think I bring him everywhere.
“I’m sorry,” Seokmin whispered.
His date’s expression softened in a way he did not deserve.
“I know.”
That was worse than anger.
Seokmin almost wished they would be angry.
Anger would have given him something to respond to. Something solid. A punishment he could accept.
But their kindness made him feel like a child standing in the middle of something he had broken without knowing how he’d dropped it.
“I really did have a good time,” he said.
“I believe you.”
“I like you.”
“I believe that too.”
His chest hurt.
“Then why does it feel like I’m lying?”
His date looked at him for a long moment.
Then said, very quietly, “Because maybe liking me isn’t the same as wanting me.”
Seokmin couldn’t breathe.
The words landed with a softness that somehow made them brutal.
His date glanced at the shirt again.
“Whoever they are,” they said, “you should probably figure it out before you hurt them too.”
Too.
The word sank into him.
Too.
As if there was already someone hurt.
As if Seokmin had been carrying damage behind him all night like perfume.
As if someone else had been bleeding quietly while Seokmin smiled at his phone and asked what flowers people liked.
Joshua’s face flashed in his mind.
Joshua at dinner.
Laughing.
Helping.
Saying, Then do it.
Joshua’s eyes.
Joshua’s smile.
Joshua’s voice through the phone.
*Good luck, Seokmin.*
Seokmin suddenly felt sick.
He went home alone.
The taxi was too quiet.
The city passed outside in streaks of gold and red, blurry through the window.
Seokmin’s phone sat heavy in his hand.
He opened Joshua’s contact.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
Closed it again.
His thumb hovered over the call button until the screen dimmed.
What was he supposed to say?
The date went well, but I missed you.
No.
Insane.
I almost kissed someone and thought of you.
Worse.
I wore your shirt and realized I don’t know how to be happy if you’re not the first person I tell.
Pathetic.
He locked his phone.
Unlocked it again.
There was a message from his date.
I got home safe. I hope you did too.
Seokmin stared at it.
His throat tightened.
They were kind.
He had hurt them anyway.
Maybe not badly.
Maybe just enough.
Still enough.
He typed:
I’m sorry.
Deleted it.
Typed:
I had a nice time.
Deleted that too.
Finally, he wrote:
I got home safe. Thank you for tonight. I’m sorry I wasn’t fully there.
He stared at the message until the words blurred.
Then sent it.
The reply came a minute later.
I know. Take care of yourself, Seokmin.
No anger.
No blame.
Just a door closing gently.
That was worse too.
Seokmin set the phone face down on his lap and pressed his hands over his eyes.
The shirt smelled like Joshua.
Faintly.
Barely.
But enough to make his chest ache.
His room felt too empty.
That was stupid.
His room was always his room.
Same bed.
Same chair.
Same laundry he had not folded.
Same half-empty water bottle on the desk.
Same blue shirt on his body.
No.
Not his.
Joshua’s.
Seokmin stood in the middle of the room and could not make himself move.
Usually, after something important happened, Joshua was the first person he told.
Good news.
Bad news.
Stupid news.
Tiny news.
A vocal run he finally got right.
A coffee place he liked.
A dog on the street that looked exactly like Seungkwan when offended.
A cloud shaped like nothing but Seokmin had decided it was funny anyway.
Joshua heard everything first.
Not because Seokmin meant anything by it.
Except maybe he did.
Maybe he had meant something by it for a long time.
Maybe he had been giving Joshua every first piece of himself and calling it friendship because friendship was safe.
Because Joshua was safe.
Because Joshua never asked for more.
Seokmin swallowed.
No.
That wasn’t fair.
Joshua shouldn’t have had to ask.
The thought appeared suddenly, sharp and clean.
Joshua shouldn’t have had to ask to matter.
Seokmin sat on the edge of his bed.
Slowly.
Like his body had become too heavy.
His phone buzzed again.
He reached for it too fast.
Joshua.
For one impossible second, hope tore through him so violently it hurt.
But it was not Joshua.
It was Mingyu.
How did it go???
Then Seungkwan.
LEE SEOKMIN ANSWER ME.
Then Jeonghan.
No details, just tell me if you survived.
Seokmin stared at the messages.
He should answer.
He should say something funny.
Something loud.
Something that sounded like himself.
Instead, he opened Joshua’s chat.
The last message was from earlier.
Seokmin had sent:
Emergency.
Joshua had replied:
What happened?
That was Joshua.
Always.
Not I’m busy.
Not Ask someone else.
Not Can this wait?
Just:
What happened?
As if Seokmin happening was reason enough to stop everything.
Seokmin’s fingers shook.
He scrolled up.
He shouldn’t have.
He knew he shouldn’t.
But he did.
Messages from weeks ago.
Months.
Years, almost.
Joshua sending voice memos.
Seokmin sending terrible selfies.
Joshua replying dryly.
Seokmin sending ten messages in a row about nothing.
Joshua answering all of them.
Not always immediately.
But always.
Always.
Seokmin scrolled until he found a picture of himself asleep on Joshua’s couch, mouth slightly open, hair a mess.
Joshua had sent it with:
You’re paying rent if this keeps happening.
Seokmin had replied:
Your couch likes me.
Joshua:
Unfortunately, so do I.
Seokmin stared at that message.
Unfortunately, so do I.
He had read it then as a joke.
Of course he had.
Because Joshua said things like that in a voice light enough to make them safe.
Because Seokmin had never thought to ask what happened to all the things Joshua made safe for him.
Where they went.
What they cost.
He scrolled again.
Another message.
Seokmin, after a bad practice:
I think everyone hates me today.
Joshua:
Impossible. You’re annoying, not hateable.
Seokmin had sent crying emojis.
Joshua had sent:
Come over if you want.
Seokmin remembered that night.
Remembered going.
Remembered Joshua opening the door before Seokmin even knocked properly.
Remembered Joshua letting him talk until he stopped making sense.
Remembered falling asleep on Joshua’s shoulder.
Remembered waking up under a blanket with Joshua sleeping sitting up beside him, neck bent at an awful angle because he hadn’t wanted to move and wake Seokmin.
Seokmin put the phone down.
His hands were cold.
Had Joshua always loved him like that?
No.
No, that was too much.
That was too big.
That was a thought with teeth.
Maybe Joshua was just kind.
Joshua was kind to everyone.
He was gentle.
He was attentive.
He remembered things.
He noticed.
He stayed.
Except—
Except not like that.
Not with everyone.
Not always.
Not every time.
Seokmin stood suddenly, restless with panic.
He walked to the mirror.
Joshua’s shirt looked back at him.
His hair was still carefully styled, though less perfect now from the wind.
His lips were untouched except near the corner, where someone else’s almost-kiss had landed and vanished.
He looked like a person who had gone on a date.
He felt like a person who had betrayed something he hadn’t known existed.
Seokmin gripped the hem of the shirt.
He should take it off.
He should wash it.
Fold it.
Return it.
Give Joshua back the part of him Seokmin had borrowed too easily.
Instead, he brought the sleeve to his face.
And breathed in.
Clean fabric.
Faint warmth.
Joshua.
The ache that went through him was immediate.
Terrifying.
Seokmin covered his mouth with the sleeve and laughed once.
It came out broken.
“Oh,” he whispered.
Just that.
Oh.
Like his heart had finally caught up to the rest of him.
Oh.
This wasn’t friendship.
Or not only friendship.
This wasn’t habit.
Or not only habit.
This was why the date had felt incomplete.
This was why he called Joshua first.
This was why Joshua’s approval mattered more than his own reflection.
This was why wearing Joshua’s shirt had calmed him more than the thought of seeing someone he supposedly wanted.
This was why he had turned his head at the river.
This was why the name in his head had been Joshua’s.
Seokmin sank to the floor before he realized his knees had given out.
His back hit the side of the bed.
He stared at the dark room.
And then the second realization came.
Worse than the first.
Joshua had known.
Maybe not everything.
Maybe not this.
But something.
Joshua had known enough to go quiet at dinner.
Known enough to smile too fast.
Known enough to say, "Then do it," with a face Seokmin now wanted to tear out of his own memory because how had he missed it?
How had he missed that?
Joshua had looked at him and helped him walk toward someone else.
Because Joshua loved him.
Because Joshua was kind.
Because Joshua would rather break his own heart than risk being the reason Seokmin’s smile disappeared.
The thought cracked something open.
Seokmin bent forward, pressing Joshua’s shirt against his mouth.
The first sob surprised him.
It came out ugly.
Small.
A sound he would have been embarrassed by if anyone heard.
No one did.
No one was there.
Not Joshua.
And for the first time, Seokmin understood what absence could sound like.
It sounded like a room where Joshua was not answering.
A phone he was too afraid to dial.
A shirt that smelled like comfort and accusation.
He cried harder.
Not neatly.
Not prettily.
Seokmin had never learned how to hide anything.
Not when he was hurting.
Not when he was happy.
And now he was both.
Hurting because Joshua might love him.
Hurting because Joshua might stop.
Happy because some terrible, selfish part of him wanted it to be true.
Ashamed because wanting it now felt like arriving after the song had ended and asking the music to start over.
His phone buzzed again.
He ignored it.
Then it buzzed once more.
This time, the name on the screen lit up the room.
Joshua.
Seokmin stopped breathing.
The message was short.
Did you get home okay?
Seokmin stared at it until tears blurred the words.
Of course.
Of course Joshua still checked.
Of course Joshua still cared.
Of course Joshua would cut himself open quietly and then ask if Seokmin had gotten home safe.
Seokmin pressed a hand to his mouth.
He didn’t deserve this.
He didn’t deserve Joshua’s kindness.
Not tonight.
Maybe not ever.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard.
He typed:
Yeah.
Deleted it.
Typed:
The date was fine.
Deleted it.
Typed:
I’m sorry.
Stopped.
His whole body shook.
Because sorry was too small.
Sorry for what?
Sorry I called you to dress me for someone else?
Sorry I wore your shirt like it meant nothing?
Sorry I made you watch me want somebody else?
Sorry I didn’t know the thing I was looking for was you?
Sorry I think I broke your heart before I even realized I had it?
Seokmin deleted the words.
Then typed:
I got home.
A pause.
Then:
Thank you for helping me earlier.
Joshua replied a minute later.
Anytime.
Seokmin made a sound in the quiet room.
Half laugh.
Half sob.
Anytime.
That word hurt more than anything else had.
Because Seokmin believed him.
That was the problem.
Joshua would mean it.
Again and again.
Until there was nothing left of him.
Seokmin stared at the message.
Then finally typed:
Josh.
The typing bubble appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Then Joshua replied:
Yeah?
One word.
Soft even through a screen.
Seokmin’s vision blurred again.
He wanted to ask.
He wanted to say it
He wanted to claw through the distance and demand the truth.
Did I hurt you?
Did you know?
Do you love me?
Can I still come over?
Can I give the shirt back?
Can I keep it?
Can I keep you?
But every question felt selfish.
Every confession felt late.
So he typed the only thing he could safely say.
Goodnight.
The answer came after a moment.
Goodnight, Seokmin.
Not Minnie.
Not Kyeom.
Not the easy, teasing names Joshua used when they were safe.
Seokmin stared at his full name until his chest went cold.
There it was.
A distance so small no one else would notice.
Joshua had put one careful inch between them.
And Seokmin, who had spent years leaning into Joshua without asking permission, finally felt the space.
He deserved it.
That did not make it hurt less.
Seokmin set the phone down.
He did not take off the shirt.
He slept in it.
Or tried to.
Mostly, he lay awake in the dark, breathing in what was left of Joshua, wondering how long someone could be loved without noticing.
Wondering if not noticing counted as cruelty.
Wondering if Joshua was awake too.
Wondering if Joshua’s room was quiet.
Wondering if Joshua felt lonely.
Then realizing, with a pain so sharp it made him curl onto his side, that Joshua had probably felt lonely for a long time.
Right next to him.
Because of him.
In the morning, the shirt no longer smelled as much like Joshua.
Mostly, it smelled like Seokmin now.
That made him cry again.
Seokmin thought that would be the worst of it.
He was wrong.
The worst came later.
Weeks later.
Long enough for him to learn how to act normal again.
Or something close to normal.
Long enough for Joshua to stop looking at him first when someone made a joke.
Long enough for Seokmin to understand that distance could be polite.
That was the cruelest part.
Joshua was never cold.
He still smiled.
Still answered when spoken to.
Still passed Seokmin water during practice without being asked.
Still remembered when Seokmin’s throat hurt and quietly slid honey packets across the table like nothing had changed.
But something had.
Joshua no longer stayed.
That was the difference.
He was there.
And then he wasn’t.
Before, Joshua had always lingered.
Beside him after rehearsals.
In doorways.
At the end of calls.
In the soft pauses where Seokmin used to fill the silence with anything, everything, nothing at all.
Now Joshua left before Seokmin could lean.
And Seokmin, who had spent years not noticing how often Joshua let himself be leaned on, felt every absence like a bruise.
Then Vernon sent a message to the group chat.
Demo’s almost done.
Seokmin didn’t think anything of it at first.
They were always working on something.
Always recording.
Always writing.
Always turning feelings into melodies and calling it productivity.
Then Vernon added:
Hyung killed the first verse.
Seokmin stared at the screen.
Josh hyung.
First verse.
Something in his stomach tightened.
He told himself it was nothing.
He had become very good at telling himself things were nothing.
That had been the problem from the beginning.
They heard the song in Studio A.
Not officially.
Not as some grand reveal.
Just the members scattered around after practice, half-eating, half-resting, while Vernon messed with the speakers and Joshua stood near the back wall with his arms crossed.
Seokmin noticed that first.
Joshua was not sitting.
Joshua always sat when he was comfortable.
He leaned when he wanted to look casual.
He crossed his arms when he was bracing for something.
Seokmin knew that now.
Maybe he had always known.
He just hadn’t known what knowing meant.
“What’s this?” Seungkwan asked.
“Something we’ve been working on,” Vernon said.
Joshua looked down.
Vernon pressed play.
The room filled with guitar.
Bright.
Sharp.
Almost playful.
Then Vernon’s voice came through first.
What’s two minus one?
Someone made a small sound of interest.
Seokmin did not move.
Then Joshua’s voice entered.
Clear.
Smooth.
Too light.
Hope you listen to this song ’cause I…
Seokmin stopped breathing.
He knew that voice.
Of course he knew that voice.
He knew Joshua’s recording voice.
His speaking voice.
His tired voice.
His almost-laughing voice.
His don’t-worry-about-me voice.
This was different.
This was Joshua pretending so hard the lie had rhythm.
’Cause I’m doing right just fine.
Seokmin’s hands curled at his sides.
No.
I’m doing alright, doing alright.
No.
The song kept going.
Joshua kept singing.
Something bright and bitter about having all the time in the world to himself.
About going out.
About drinking.
About not being able to get someone off his mind.
The room shifted around Seokmin.
Not physically.
No one else seemed to understand yet.
Mingyu was nodding along.
Dino was grinning at the production.
Seungkwan had already started listening with that focused face he got when he wanted to compliment something properly afterward.
Vernon stood by the speakers, expression unreadable.
Joshua still did not look up.
Seokmin wanted him to.
He dreaded it.
Then Vernon’s voice came in.
I can’t get you out of my head, yeah.
Seokmin’s throat closed.
Because he knew.
Before the chorus.
Before the second verse.
Before the song named anything too clearly.
He knew.
The chorus hit.
Joshua and Vernon together.
Two minus one.
Seokmin felt the words hit him in the chest.
Simple.
Almost stupidly simple.
Two minus one.
A math problem children could solve.
Except Seokmin couldn’t.
Not anymore.
Not when every answer looked like Joshua standing in the same room and feeling impossibly far away.
I can see you’re doing really good without me, baby.
Seokmin nearly flinched.
Because he remembered.
His date.
His phone.
His smile at dinner.
Joshua laughing like nothing was wrong.
Joshua saying, Then do it.
Joshua saying, Good luck, Seokmin.
Joshua seeing everything.
Seeing him happy.
Seeing him choose someone else.
And still helping.
I’m doing great myself, hope you know I am.
Joshua’s voice sounded bright.
So bright.
So horribly bright.
Seokmin wanted to cover his ears.
He didn’t.
He stood there.
Still.
Quiet.
Learning, with sudden terror, how much pain a person could hide inside a catchy chorus.
Then the second verse began.
Vernon.
And somehow, that was worse.
Because Joshua could lie.
Joshua had always been able to make pain sound polite.
But Vernon sounded like he was reporting what he had witnessed.
Every time I see you in my feed…
Seokmin’s heart sank.
I don’t feel anything anymore.
Lie.
That was a lie.
It had to be.
Seokmin looked at Joshua then.
Finally.
Joshua was staring at the floor.
Expression calm.
Unreadable.
Like the song had nothing to do with him.
Like his own voice was not bleeding through the speakers.
Then Vernon sang:
We used to be best friends.
Seokmin’s fingers tightened.
Hard.
Nails biting into his palms.
No one noticed.
The song kept going.
I remember you said that you can be yourself when I’m around.
The room disappeared.
Completely.
Seokmin was back in Studio B.
Half-asleep.
Joshua beside him.
Music low through the speakers.
His own voice, soft and careless and sincere:
I can be myself around you.
He had said that.
He had said that to Joshua.
Only Joshua.
No one else had been there.
Except—
Seokmin’s eyes flicked to Vernon.
Vernon’s jaw was tight.
He knew.
Maybe not that exact moment.
Maybe not all of it.
But enough.
Enough to sing the wound back into the room.
Guess that didn’t really matter.
Seokmin’s vision blurred.
He smiled.
Immediately.
Too fast.
Too bright.
Because if he didn’t, someone would see.
Someone would ask.
Someone would stop the song.
And Seokmin deserved to hear it.
All of it.
Every line Joshua had swallowed.
Every hurt Seokmin had caused by not looking closely enough.
Every piece of the heartbreak Joshua had turned into melody because speaking it plainly would have been too much.
So Seokmin smiled.
Brightly.
Painfully.
Like he was impressed.
Like he was proud.
Like the words were not cutting him open in front of everyone.
All the feelings we had were not worth much to you at all.
Seokmin almost made a sound.
He bit it down.
No.
No, no, no.
They were worth everything.
He just hadn’t known what they were.
He hadn’t known Joshua was holding them with both hands.
He hadn’t known that every casual touch, every borrowed shirt, every late-night call, every you’re my favorite person had been building a home inside someone else’s chest.
He hadn’t known.
But not knowing did not make the damage disappear.
Well, I moved on, so keep your two cents.
Joshua finally looked up.
Their eyes met.
For less than a second.
Joshua looked away first.
Seokmin felt that like punishment.
No.
Not punishment.
Boundary.
That was worse.
The song kept moving.
The pre-chorus came again.
This time Joshua sang it.
I can’t get you out of my head, yeah.
And there it was.
The confession.
Not hidden anymore.
Not enough.
Seokmin stood in the room with everyone else and listened to Joshua admit, in the safest way possible, that Seokmin had never left him.
That he had been everywhere.
In his head.
In his clothes.
In the silence.
In the pretending.
How can you be so fine when I’m…
Joshua’s voice fractured just slightly.
Barely.
No one else reacted.
Seokmin did.
Inside, something in him fell to its knees.
The bridge came.
Vernon first.
I thought you were the one.
Seokmin’s smile almost broke.
Then Joshua.
Didn’t need any other.
Seokmin’s hands clenched tighter.
His palms stung.
Good.
Pain helped.
Pain gave him somewhere to put the scream.
Then Vernon sang it.
I can still smell the perfume you used to wear in my clothes.
Seokmin stopped being able to pretend he was breathing normally.
The shirt.
The blue button-down.
The morning after the date.
His sleeve pressed to his mouth.
The scent fading.
Mostly smelling like him now.
Joshua had smelled him too.
All that time.
Joshua had carried him around in fabric and skin and memory.
Joshua had missed him through scent.
Through absence.
Through clothes Seokmin had borrowed and returned like they were just clothes.
Can’t erase it, no.
Seokmin wanted to say sorry.
Right there.
In front of everyone.
Wanted to cross the room and take Joshua’s hand and apologize until the word became meaningless from use.
But Joshua was singing.
And Seokmin was smiling.
And everyone else was listening to a song.
Only Seokmin was hearing a crime scene.
I can still see you in myself.
That was when he nearly lost it.
Because he could too.
He could see Joshua everywhere now.
In the way he waited before answering when he was upset.
In the way he had started saying “I’m fine” too calmly.
In the way he made coffee the way Joshua liked it without thinking.
In the way his first instinct, even now, was to look for Joshua’s reaction before trusting his own.
Love is so blinding.
The line repeated.
Seokmin wondered which one of them had been blind.
Joshua, for loving quietly.
Or Seokmin, for being loved loudly enough to live in and still calling it friendship.
The final chorus hit.
Everyone else started reacting now.
Mingyu nodded hard.
Dino said something about the hook.
Seungkwan made an impressed noise.
Someone laughed, bright and admiring.
Seokmin smiled wider.
His jaw hurt.
His hands hurt.
His chest hurt most of all.
Two minus one.
He understood it now.
Too late.
Joshua minus Seokmin.
Seokmin minus Joshua.
A subtraction neither of them had survived as cleanly as they pretended.
I’m super fine.
Joshua sounded like he was lying beautifully.
I don’t need you anymore.
Seokmin’s smile trembled.
Just once.
He forced it steady.
Then the outro came.
Joshua and Vernon together.
Don’t need you anymore.
A breath.
Then—
I need you.
Seokmin felt his heart break in a way that was almost quiet.
Not because Joshua needed him.
Because Joshua had needed him.
Past tense.
Present tense.
Maybe both.
And Seokmin had been so busy chasing a feeling elsewhere that he had not noticed he was already standing inside it.
The song ended.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then the room erupted.
“Whoa,” Mingyu said. “That’s good.”
“Really good,” Seungkwan added immediately. “The chorus is insane.”
Dino was already asking Vernon about the guitar.
Someone clapped Joshua on the shoulder.
Joshua smiled.
Small.
Tired.
Polite.
Seokmin smiled too.
Bright.
Open.
Perfect.
“That’s amazing,” he said.
His voice did not shake.
That was the miracle.
Joshua looked at him.
Vernon looked at him.
Everyone else kept talking.
Seokmin smiled harder.
“I mean it,” he added. “It’s really good.”
Joshua’s expression flickered.
Something passed through his eyes.
Hurt.
Disbelief.
Maybe disappointment.
Then it was gone.
“Thanks,” Joshua said.
Quiet.
Careful.
Seokmin nodded.
He did not say anything else.
He could not.
Because if he opened his mouth again, the wrong thing would come out.
Something like:
I know.
Something like:
I’m sorry.
Something like:
Was I the one?
Something like:
Please still need me.
So he stayed silent.
He smiled.
And for once, no one noticed that Lee Seokmin was falling apart.
Not Mingyu.
Not Seungkwan.
Not Jeonghan.
Not even Vernon.
Finally, Seokmin learned how to hide one thing.
How much that song hurt him.
He hid it by smiling so brightly everyone believed he was proud.
Everyone believed he was fine.
No one noticed how tightly he was clenching his hands.
No one noticed the crescent moons his nails had carved into his palms.
No one noticed that, for the first time in his life, Seokmin did not run toward the person he wanted most.
He stood still.
He let Joshua walk past him.
Let Joshua leave the room with Vernon’s laptop under one arm and his face carefully turned away.
Let the door close.
Only then did Seokmin look down at his hands.
His palms were marked red.
Almost bleeding.
Good, he thought.
Then immediately hated himself for it.
Because pain was not payment.
Hurt was not apology.
And loving Joshua too late did not undo the months Joshua had spent learning how to be lonely beside him.
...Maybe. Just maybe... this may be for the best...
...
Some things weren't meant to become more than it already was.