Chapter Text
Another spring blooms, and so do Sangwon’s responsibilities.
The rumors of a new group were circulating like wildfire in their dorms, much more than they had in the months before. Typically, he’d hear murmurs of the debut lineup that would be quickly shut down whenever more boys entered a room. Recently, the trainees had been shameless in discussing these matters, even going as far as making them regular conversation topics during meal times.
“How ‘bout we place our bets on who makes it, hm?”
One of the eldest, Doyoon, sizes up the trainees who were in a circle in their living room. There had been pizza from their sunbaes that day, and so everyone graciously found their spot on the floor to partake in the rare blessing. By some stroke of luck, or through the sheer fact that pizza was one of the only food items Leo would eat with no question, the antisocial trainee didn’t need to be told twice to come out of his room.
He’s perched at the foot of the sofa, his free arm around Sangwon’s shoulder while he devours a slice. He might be barely listening, too engrossed in his food, so he can’t tell how the younger’s stomach churns at the innocuous question thrown at the group.
Their dorm buddies shout out different names in succession, some with deep confidence when they do. When they call a name within the circle, they raise the person’s hand, as if announcing a winner. It’s actually quite silly if it didn’t stir so much anxiety for the others who weren’t called.
“—I’m telling you, if it’s a seven-member group, then Leo’s making it for sure!”
At the sound of his name, Leo perks up, eyebrows shooting up in confusion.
“Huh?”
“Bro, you’re too nonchalant for someone who’s for sure debuting.”
“I am?” He asks, innocently dumbfounded. Sangwon squeezes the hand hanging on his shoulder for reassurance.
“Duh, dude.” Another trainee speaks up, half-laughing, “I’m sure they’ve been speeding up the debut ever since you got here.”
Leo doesn’t reply, probably too bashful to confirm or deny their suspicions. Sangwon doesn’t take it against him—what could you possibly say in this situation that won’t make you seem like an arrogant asshole?
The kid on Leo’s other side elbows him, curiosity hinting at his voice. “Well, who would you wanna debut with, Leo-hyung?”
“Uh,” he clears his throat, wiping his lips with a paper napkin. “I dunno if I’m debuting, to be honest, but if I were, I think Sangwonnie would be in the lineup with me.”
He hears faint snickers around the circle, and he fights back the urge to laugh, too. Of course, Sangwon would want to be part of the lineup, but realistically, his chances aren’t as high as the names already mentioned, especially if the slots were really limited.
“Why are you laughing?” Leo asks, a gruff edge unexpectedly present in his tone. The hands around Sangwon’s shoulders tighten until he’s pressed against the older trainee.
“—You asked for my opinion, and I want my best friend to be in my group.”
The boys don’t comment after the fact, gawkily passing the question on to other people who may not blow up as Leo did.
Sangwon is thankful for the shift. While others racked their brains on their dream debuts, he can allow his mind to get stuck on the words uttered by the man beside him.
It’s not like he fixates on labels he’d have with his friends. He has never had a ‘best friend’ since childhood and considers the term juvenile when there were so many kinds of friends to be had. Even then, Leo calling him his best friend was different.
It’s a comforting feeling, he decides. He’s not entirely sure what Leo sees in him to consider him his best friend, but he’s grateful for the badge of honor nonetheless.
Sangwon eases into the conversation again, playing with the other trainees as if he hadn’t been affected at all. To be fair, he still doesn’t take offense at the trainees' opinions, though he appreciates that Leo seemed to care so much about them debuting together.
In a perfect world, he’d really want to debut with him, too.
He can already picture how much he'd be able to endure if he had Leo by his side. Despite being in their company for far longer than the foreigner, he feels like Leo’s been taking care of him a lot more than he ever did. No other trainee pays as much attention to him and his well-being in general. He’d be the luckiest person ever if he gets to have that security close by for years.
Leo hasn’t moved away from him, their limbs still closely linked together. A series of soothing taps makes its way onto Sangwon’s bicep, and he lays his head on Leo's shoulder to make himself more comfortable.
“Sleepy, my baby?”
He almost wants to smack him in the arm for the nickname. He’s reminded Leo countless times that he was no longer a baby, especially after he had turned 18. However, the man did just stand up for him tonight, so maybe he deserved the pass.
“Not at all.”
His eyes are closed, taking in the serenity of being in the man’s personal bubble, even when the rest of the room feels too chaotic to catch up with. Leo hums from beside him, angling his head farther so Sangwon can loll his head around if he’d like. He snuggles further in, habit taking over.
“Liar,” the man chuckles, running his fingers through the younger’s hair until he eventually dozes off.
He has an inkling of how he makes it to bed that night, having woken up the next day with a blanket wrapped around him and with socks on his feet, his sleeping ritual followed to a T.
Leo denies having been involved in it.
Over the next few weeks, the trainees get called one by one by their mentors and managers, and though they try not to address the elephant in the room, everyone can tell it’s related to the debut announcement that's been floating around for months.
Sangwon’s anxiety heightens thinking of his own schedule, which surprisingly hasn’t come up after a week of his fellow trainees disappearing for an hour or so. He’s seen many go home to the dorms crying from frustration, the light in their eyes dimming, an obvious sign that they hadn’t made the cut.
When Leo tells him of his own schedule with their executives, the worry in him peaks. After the meeting, Sangwon would then have a clear reference point in what the clandestine talk was about, and it would probably scare him from attending his when the time came.
More importantly, he'd know Leo's fate in the company, which is something he can't even begin to process. He and Leo were at an age where if they didn't debut with the group now, they might never get the chance here.
“Wonnie, I’ll be fine. There’s nothing I can do but face it, so I might as well face it now that I have nothing to lose.”
'You could lose me,’ Sangwon thinks to himself.
Who truly knows what would happen if Leo didn’t make it, or if he did and Sangwon didn’t? The meeting was going to be the turning point of their friendship, whether or not they wanted it to be.
“Don’t make that face now, Sangwonnie.”
Leo’s easy smile falters, and he regards the trainee with careful attention. He's always been able to tell how the younger is feeling without any need for words.
“Nothing has happened yet. And if something does, we’ll get through it. Together.”
Sangwon can only nod, unwilling to break in front of the man who was desperately trying to make him feel strong. Still, he isn’t all that invincible, so he wraps his arms around the shoulders of an unsuspecting Leo, holding him close as if it will protect him—them—from anything terrible.
Leo breathes out the most minuscule of laughs and reciprocates the embrace immediately, his hands looping around the younger’s waist.
“Still a baby.”
“I‘m not,” Sangwon pouts indignantly against his friend's neck. Leo laughs even harder.
He’s becoming more annoyed by the second, a better emotion than fear, but still not as positive as he’d like.
“Ouch!” Leo yelps, arms squeezing Sangwon’s side firmly from his mouth’s contact on the trainee's neck.
Sangwon had bitten him. Not enough that it seemed like he mauled him, but enough that he felt the nip on his skin.
“Take it back, Leo-hyung.”
“How can I take it back when you acted even more like a child?!”
“Shut up,” Sangwon whines, slightly embarrassed now. He nuzzles his nose on the pathetic mark on the man’s neck, looking awfully like a mosquito bite.
“Okay, I’ll shut up,” He can feel the trainee’s mouth curling upwards, “baby.”
He doesn’t know what kind of superpowers Leo had for him to be placated so easily because he remains in a warm embrace until the man gets a call to go up to the CEO’s floor.
And even then, Sangwon doesn’t let him go, not really.
He paces outside the company’s office on the day of Leo’s schedule, too keyed up to head to the practice room downstairs and genuinely worried about his best friend. His feet go back and forth on the linoleum flooring, his earbuds keeping him company as he spirals out of control.
At least Leo knows he’s waiting for him—ready to congratulate him for the wonderful news or to comfort him if things didn’t go as planned.
It must have been over an hour of him sitting, standing, and pacing around the floor, his legs getting tired from the repetitive motion. Had the other trainee conversations lasted this long, he’s not too sure; he never bothered to ask.
Ms. Kang, the CEO’s secretary. must have some pity on him because she offers him some tea and snacks after the one-hour mark of his mindless pacing. She’s not such a bad conversationalist, too, and Sangwon ends up oversharing about himself and his trainee friends to the lady.
“The one inside the room is my best friend,” he tells her bashfully. He doesn’t say the term often, so it sounds unfamiliar on his tongue.
“Ah, no wonder you’ve been waiting for so long,” Ms. Kang smiles warmly. “They should be done soon. I got a message about calling the next trainee in.”
“Oh, I should’ve been talking to you since I got here, then.”
Sangwon puts a hand at the back of his neck, and the woman laughs. He cracks a smile at her joy, grateful that she was at least a welcoming distraction amidst the turmoil in his heart.
“No worries, it was entertaining watching you mumble to yourself,” she jokes. “I do hope you get the news you want. You seem like a nice kid.”
He gives her a thumbs up, suddenly too distracted to answer properly when he sees the glass door handle move. He’s itching to ask Leo what happened, what his results were, and if he had any advice on—
“Let’s go down, Sangwon-ah.”
Leo’s tone is gentle yet controlled, his real emotions tightly sealed beneath the surface, leaving no room for discussion. The younger trainee shoots the secretary a wry smile while Leo bows to her, and they make their way to the elevator.
He doesn’t dare say anything before Leo does. He’s never been at the receiving end of the elder’s impassiveness, so he tries not to poke the bear early on. He simply follows the man to where he’s headed, which turns out to be an abandoned street at the back of their building, the one where idols’ vehicles pass through to avoid detection.
Leo finally stops walking and faces him, his lips pursed in thought. When he realizes Sangwon wouldn’t bother to ask anything, he sighs.
“I’m not debuting.”
Leo is calm when he says it, his face stolid as if he weren’t delivering life-shattering news.
Meanwhile, the words are enough to send Sangwon to the verge of tears, a hand on his mouth in disbelief.
Leo not debuting feels like a sick joke, not only because Sangwon rooted for him, but also because he was Lee Leo. Him debuting was supposed to be a no-brainer.
“I’m not fit for what they want in the team,” he adds, because Sangwon is still too shocked to respond. “I don’t think I would’ve done well with their vision, too.”
At that, Sangwon regains a fraction of his composure. While he can’t wrap his head around Leo not debuting, he can be certain it wasn’t because his friend was lacking in any way. He finds his voice, shaky yet determined.
“B-but you’re perfect, hyung. You have been since you arrived in Korea.”
Leo looks at him fully, brown eyes piercing his. He removes Sangwon’s hand from his face, gingerly cradling it against his hip instead. When he remains frozen, the elder presses Sangwon’s head to his sternum, holding him there until his heart syncs to the sound of the man’s breathing.
“You’ve always been good to me, Sangwon-ah.”
The hand on Sangwon’s nape caresses his hair softly, the pads of Leo’s fingers massaging his scalp.
“—Which is why I need to tell you that I’m leaving the company soon.”
Sangwon should understand his decision perfectly. It’s only logical for a trainee to leave the company if they fail to secure a debut, and he’d probably do the same depending on how his own results would go.
But right now, with how Leo is holding him like he was the fragile one —like he knew how the admission would go since he pulled him to the abandoned alleyway— breaks him.
“N-no, no…” he mumbles, softly at first, the tears he had held back flowing freely.
“Sangwonnie…”
“No hyung, you can’t!”
Sangwon wails, his fist flying to the man’s chest. The punch hardly lands, his muscles not having the strength to hurt Leo, even now. He can’t stop crying, his head already starting to ache from dehydration, yet he doesn’t dare stop the weak punches of frustration.
Leo lets him.
Why does he let him?
“You told me we’d get through this together. Y-you can’t just leave me, Leo,” he rasps, just as his limbs almost give out from exhaustion. Annoyingly, he knows the older trainee can already sense him struggling, because that’s when he catches him by the wrist, uncurling his fist to make their palms meet.
“I’m not leaving you, Sangwonnie. I’ll still be here for you.”
Leo bends down, pressing his lips to Sangwon’s forehead, the sensation a balm to his ailing heart. He makes a sound from the back of his throat and buries himself closer to the man, hugging him with as much strength as his body will allow. Leo doesn’t mind the weight, only rocking him gently and continuing to caress his scalp, with tender kisses landing on his hair.
The tenderness is what pains him more. Leo had been the one cut from the team. Yet, he was the one to comfort Sangwon, as if it were the younger trainee who had received the news.
How could Leo keep it all together when Sangwon felt like the ground was being pulled from his feet?
“Hyung… h-hyung,” he hiccups, chest filled with inexplicable pain and drowning him whole.
“Hyungie, I’m scared.”
“Don’t be, my baby,” Leo murmurs to the top of his head, more sweetly than what his trembling body deserves, “Nothing will change, I promise you.”
Sangwon trusts Leo with every fiber in his being. He’s the one person who’s seen all sides of him, who’s watched him train until his body gave out, guiding him through everything like no one ever had. And even outside their life in the company, Leo had grown with him. He had embedded himself too deeply into Sangwon’s life that even he couldn’t tell which part of him hadn’t been touched by the man.
If Leo says nothing will change, then Sangwon will believe him.
There’s absolutely no way he could be wrong.
When he finally has enough courage to look up from where he’d been hiding, he’s greeted by Leo’s eyes shining with unshed tears, gaze still fond despite the fact. His best friend swipes his thumbs across the tear tracks on Sangwon’s face, tucking his unkempt bangs to the back of his ears, and wordlessly putting the trainee back together even now.
“No more tears tonight, Sangwon-ah.”
Sangwon nods once, not trusting himself to speak. Leo seems to understand, lips brushing against his forehead a final time before letting go.