Chapter Text
After that night, things got worse.
Or better.
Neither of them could tell anymore.
It became normal in the way strange things sometimes do.
Thursday stopped being a coincidence and turned into routine.
6:40.
Exit three.
Sometimes one of them arrived first. Sometimes they texted beforehand, sometimes they didn’t. But somehow they still ended up in the same places.
Convenience stores.
Train platforms.
Night walks with no destination.
And the unsettling part was how quickly it started feeling familiar.
Keonho hated admitting that.
He hated how his eyes searched crowds automatically now.
How he checked his phone more often.
How he’d notice stupid things during the day and think—
Seonghyeon would say something annoying about this.
It was embarrassing.
Mostly because Seonghyeon noticed.
Of course he did.
“You check your phone every four minutes.”
Keonho looked up from his drink.
They were sitting outside a convenience store, plastic chairs wobbling beneath them.
“You counted?”
“You think I don’t notice things?”
“That sounds familiar.”
Seonghyeon smiled into his ramyeon cup.
Rain had started again.
Not heavy.
Just enough to blur streetlights.
Keonho looked away.
“You’re one to talk.”
“About what?”
“You looked at my story three times today.”
Seonghyeon blinked.
Then—
“You posted it for me.”
Keonho nearly choked.
“I did not.”
“Then why a photo of the station?”
“That’s where I was.”
“Mhm.”
“You’re annoying.”
“You like me anyway.”
The answer came too fast.
“I never said that.”
Seonghyeon looked completely unbothered.
“You didn’t need to.”
Keonho hated how warm his face felt.
The problem with Seonghyeon was that he treated uncomfortable things too casually.
Like they were standing on opposite sides of a line only he could see.
And sometimes—
he stepped over it without warning.
It happened two weeks later.
Keonho had fallen asleep after rehearsal and woken to messages.
Still alive?
Then—
Your room light’s on
His stomach dropped.
He sat up immediately.
Curtains.
Half open.
And sure enough—
across the street, leaning beneath the same flickering lamp as before—
Seonghyeon.
Keonho stared.
His phone buzzed again.
You sleep like the dead
He typed back immediately.
You’re outside again???
Seen.
Then—
Come down
Keonho should’ve told him no.
Normal people probably would have.
Instead he grabbed a hoodie and left.
The air outside smelled like wet pavement.
Seonghyeon looked unfairly comfortable standing there.
“You can’t keep doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“Appearing outside my house.”
“You appeared outside my rehearsal building first.”
“That was different.”
“You keep saying that.”
Keonho shoved his hands into his sleeves.
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” Seonghyeon said, glancing at him, “you still came down.”
That shut him up.
The street stayed quiet.
Cars passed occasionally.
Neither moved.
Then Seonghyeon looked up at his window.
“You changed your curtains.”
Keonho frowned.
“You noticed?”
“They’re darker.”
“You pay attention to weird things.”
“So do you.”
His gaze dropped.
“You cut your hair.”
Keonho instinctively touched the back of his neck.
“…Barely.”
“I still noticed.”
The words sat strangely between them.
Not flirtatious.
Not teasing.
Just honest.
And somehow—
that felt worse.
Or maybe better.
He still couldn’t decide.
They started taking trains together after that.
Not every day.
Just enough to make it habit.
And habits were dangerous.
Keonho realised this one evening when he arrived late and found Seonghyeon waiting near the platform.
He looked irritated.
“You’re seven minutes late.”
“You timed me?”
“You’re predictable.”
“That’s creepy.”
“So are you.”
Keonho laughed.
The train arrived with a screech.
Crowded.
Annoyingly so.
Seonghyeon hated crowded trains.
Keonho knew that.
He always stood near doors and avoided eye contact when packed in too tightly.
Tonight was no different.
People pressed shoulder to shoulder.
The carriage smelled like damp coats and perfume.
Seonghyeon stood beside him gripping the overhead rail.
Silent.
Then the train lurched.
Hard.
Someone bumped into him.
Without thinking, Keonho caught his wrist.
The movement was automatic.
Brief.
But the second he realised—
he froze.
So did Seonghyeon.
The noise of the train suddenly sounded too loud.
Keonho loosened his grip.
“Sorry.”
Seonghyeon looked down at their hands.
Then back up.
His expression was unreadable.
But he didn’t pull away immediately.
Only after the train steadied.
And for the rest of the ride—
Keonho could still feel the warmth of his skin.
The kiss started softly.
Careful enough that Keonho almost thought he imagined it.
A slow press of Seonghyeon’s lips against his, warm despite the cold rain falling around them.
For one stunned second, Keonho forgot how to breathe.
The city noise faded into the background. The river below them blurred into dark movement and distant light. All he could focus on was the warmth suddenly so close to him.
Seonghyeon.
Real.
Kissing him.
Keonho’s pulse kicked painfully hard against his ribs.
Neither moved at first.
Seonghyeon lingered there just long enough for hesitation to settle between them, like he was giving Keonho room to pull away if he wanted to.
Instead, Keonho leaned in before he could stop himself.
The second he kissed him back, something shifted.
Seonghyeon exhaled softly against his mouth, the sound quiet and rough enough to send heat rushing straight through him.
The kiss deepened slowly after that.
Not rushed.
Not messy.
Just unbearably intimate.
Their lips moved together carefully at first, learning each other in small hesitant motions that quickly stopped feeling hesitant at all.
Rain dampened the edge of Seonghyeon’s hood. Keonho could feel cold droplets against his own skin, but everywhere they touched felt warm.
Too warm.
Seonghyeon’s hand slid from the sleeve of Keonho’s hoodie down to his wrist, fingers curling there lightly before tightening just a little when Keonho kissed him harder without meaning to.
The reaction pulled a quiet sound from Seonghyeon’s throat.
Keonho nearly lost his mind over it.
His free hand moved instinctively, catching against Seonghyeon’s waist through the damp fabric of his hoodie. He felt the immediate tension in Seonghyeon’s body—the tiny sharp inhale he tried to hide—and the realization made heat twist low in Keonho’s stomach.
“You okay?” he murmured against his lips, voice unsteady.
Seonghyeon laughed softly, breathless.
“That’s your question right now?”
Keonho would’ve answered if Seonghyeon hadn’t kissed him again immediately after.
This time with less restraint.
The angle shifted. Their mouths parted slightly, breaths mixing warm in the cold air as the kiss turned slower, deeper, enough to leave Keonho dizzy.
Everything about Seonghyeon felt unfairly distracting up close.
The warmth of his mouth.
The way his fingers tightened unconsciously against Keonho’s wrist.
The barely controlled way he breathed whenever Keonho pulled him closer.
Keonho had spent weeks noticing every tiny thing about him from a distance.
None of it compared to this.
Seonghyeon leaned into him gradually until their shoulders pressed fully together, Keonho’s hand now steady at his waist while Seonghyeon’s slid upward beneath the damp edge of his sleeve, fingertips brushing briefly against bare skin.
The touch was light.
Accidental, maybe.
It still made Keonho shiver.
Seonghyeon noticed immediately.
A faint smile touched his mouth against Keonho’s.
“Sensitive?”
“Shut up,” Keonho muttered, already flushed.
Seonghyeon kissed him again before he could say anything else.
Slower this time.
Lingering.
Like he was enjoying the fact Keonho had completely stopped pretending not to want this.
The realization should’ve embarrassed him.
Instead he just pulled Seonghyeon closer.
“You’re staring,” Seonghyeon murmured.
“You started this.”
“And you didn’t stop me.”
His voice had gone quieter now.
Less teasing.
Something about that made the air feel heavier.
Keonho swallowed hard.
Rain continued tapping softly around them while the city glowed hazy beyond the river, blurred gold beneath the weather.
Seonghyeon’s thumb brushed once against the cuff of Keonho’s sleeve.
Small.
Unconscious.
Intimate enough to make his chest tighten.
Then Seonghyeon looked at him properly again and said, softer this time—
“I got tired of wondering.”
“Wondering what?”
For the first time all night, Seonghyeon hesitated.
His eyes dropped briefly to Keonho’s mouth before lifting again.
“If you’d keep watching me forever,” he said quietly, “or finally come closer.”
And somehow that felt even more dangerous than the kiss itself.