Archive of Our Own

“In addition to group and unit stages, we’ll have three solos. Yuto, Hongseok, Jinho, you’ll recreate your dance challenge from pentagon maker but with full, polished routines. Choose your songs as soon as possible and get them to the choreographer so we can start building the dances. Okay?”

All ten members nodded. It was their third mini concert since their debut, and as per company policy, structure versus freedom dictated the proceedings. Their superiors drew the outline of the event while the members added color and detail to complete the full image.  

“That’s all for now, then. Let me know if you have any concerns, and I’ll keep Hwitaek updated on the venue and setlist.”

The anticipation and anxiety of preparing for a new concert filled the room as managers and company officials filed out. Promoting on music shows was, at this point, part of the mechanics of all of their jobs. Sure, they performed in front of their fans, but there were cameras to find, tape to step on, hours of waiting to be waited.

Concerts, on the other hand, were intimate. Only the undulating sea of the crowd expanded before them, and Yuto never felt more like he was exactly where he was meant to be than in those moments.

In this moment, though, he was unsure how executing a “sexy” dance routine was going to affect his comfort on stage.

“So that means Jinho hyung has to do a girl group dance,” Hongseok teased, but Jinho appeared nonplussed.

“Fans like it when I act cute. I don’t mind giving the people what they want.” He shrugged. “You, though,” Jinho threw back to Hongseok, “don’t have an emotional bone in your body.”

As an instant retort, Hongseok began to mimic dramatic sobbing on Jinho’s shoulder.

Yuto realized as Shinwon and Hyojong encouraged Hongseok to see how quickly he could make himself fake-cry that none of his members seemed concerned with his ability to pull off his special stage. Maybe they had confidence in him since he did win the original challenge, but Yuto felt the burden of his routine settle in his stomach almost immediately. This would be altogether different. He didn’t have to convince a panel of people he saw at the company everyday that he was commanding, sexy —whatever that even really meant—but fans with expectations he wasn’t sure he could meet.

Yuto sighed, gave a half hearted smile at the single tear that rolled down Hongseok’s cheek under the encouragement of Hyojong fanning his hand furiously in front of his eyes. He grabbed his phone and his hat from the conference table, deciding to focus not on the inadequacy turning somersaults behind his navel but instead on his song choice. That, at least, he felt confident in.

___

“Is this your pick for the stage?” Wooseok asked that night upon walking into their bedroom after dinner.

Yuto sat on the twin mattress at the bottom of their bunk bed, his back against the wall, feet dangling over the edge. LE’s Velvet played from the laptop resting on the tops of his thighs.

He nodded. “What do you think? I didn’t want to go with something too obvious.”

“This’ll be unexpected, for sure.” Wooseok took a seat next to him. “I thought you’d pick adult ceremony or something.”

Yuto wrinkled his nose. “That’s way too obvious. I was thinking I could even do LE sunbae’s rapping parts and then dance during the singing and chorus. I just have to get the choreographer to agree.”

“I’m sure he’ll like this pick. The melody is sensual enough already.” Wooseok knocked his shoulder against Yuto’s lightly. “Excited for the solo?”

“Kind of,” Yuto answered honestly. The relief of being able to express his doubt aloud trumped Yuto’s usual instinct to cage his worry in silence. It was easy with Wooseok, like this, the door of their shared bedroom closed, Wooseok’s comically large feet reaching half a foot farther off the bed than his. “It feels like a lot of pressure.”

“Think about how much we’ve done since the last concert, though.” They’d released more mini albums than any of their peers in the last year. “Pressure’s like second nature to us now. You’ll be fine. You’ll work hard like you always do, and everyone’s going to—“ Wooseok waved his arms above his head and whisper-screamed the roar of a crowd.

Yuto quickly pulled on Wooseok’s hands and shook his head in embarrassment, but he did  sincerely thank his friend nonetheless.

“How about your unit with Hyunggu and Hwitaek hyung?” The company hyungs had decided on two more units in addition to Wooseok’s: Hyojong and Shinwon and Yanan and Changgu. They were combinations the fans didn’t get a chance to see very often, and Yuto had doubts about how some of the styles would work together. “Is it going to be too many cooks in the kitchen?”

“I don’t think so. Hwitaek hyung and I are used to working together, and Hyunggu already has about eighty ideas ready, so I think it’ll be fine.”

Yuto admired Wooseok’s unwavering confidence that everything, always, no matter what, would in fact be fine. Sometimes he heard Wooseok’s voice at the back of his mind on the twenty-seventh take or the fifth hour of dance practice.

Everything will be fine he assured himself later, in the darkness, body strewn the opposite direction on his bed, toes almost reaching the far end. You’ll be fine.

___

Partially, that turned out to be true. The choreographer did approve his song choice—enthusiastically, even. It took only a couple of days for a routine to be put together, and Yuto spent the following week trying his best to learn the basics of the choreography. Luckily, their schedules were clear for a several weeks before the concert. All except for Hwitaek had ample time to prepare for their stages.

His hyungs, particularly Hwitaek, took on more responsibilities and activities than he did; Yuto suspected that part of his inability to vocalize his worries stemmed from guilt. Why should he be the one complaining? So he didn’t.

When he looked absolutely ridiculous trying to execute the opening body roll for the tenth time that morning, though, he wanted to.

In fact, he stood in the middle of the practice room with his hands muffling a half-sigh-half-yell when he heard Hyunggu’s voice by the door.

“You okay?”

Yuto looked over to see him dressed in his usual practice clothes—sweat pants and a white t-shirt.

He brought his hands away from his face before answering. “Did I overlap with your session? I’m sorry, I was just finishing up.”

“No, I heard the music, I was checking in on who it was.” Hyunggu joined Yuto in the middle of the room. “And you don’t look done.”

Yuto was too tired; his irritation seeped carelessly and uncharacteristically into his response: “I know it looks like shit right now, you don’t have to rub it in.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Hyunggu’s tone softened. “I mean it’s a good rule of thumb to never leave practice frustrated by a step you can’t master. You’ll fixate on it when you’re not here, which will only make you feel even more frustrated.”

“Hmmm,” Yuto hummed. “Is that why we always finish comeback practice with a run-through of the steps everyone has down?”

Hyunggu sent him a single finger gun. “Bingo.”

“Oh, yeah, that does makes sense, but this part is actually the opening sequence. There’s nothing else for me to end on.”  Yuto laughed, because what else could he do, while Hyunggu’s eyes conveyed a kinder pity.

“Can I help?”

Yuto was used to learning choreography from Hyunggu. He was their unofficial dance leader, part-time choreographer, and practice room housekeeper. And it had been Hyunggu all those years ago who taught him the routine that won him the challenge to inspire this whole stage. Still, Yuto felt a chink in the armor that was his pride even though Hyunggu was armed with nothing more than sincerity.

Wordlessly, Yuto pulled his phone out of his pocket and clicked play on the video the choreographer had sent him. He’d run through the basics of the steps with Yuto a couple of hours ago, but with the entire team working on separate routines, he couldn’t devote but so much time to individual sessions.

Yuto watched the moves play out on his phone screen for what felt like the five hundredth time today. The initial arm work wasn’t causing him any issue, and rolling his chest he was used to, but there was something about his lower abdomen and hips that refused to continue the motion further down his body.

Yuto was unsurprised to see Hyunggu look up from his phone and roll his own body perfectly to the rhythm of the song, despite the silence of the studio.

“Why am I doing this when you could do it in your sleep?” Yuto wondered aloud.

Hyunggu put his hand on Yuto’s shoulder. “I think that’s the whole point. Fans aren’t used to seeing this kind of stuff from you, so they’ll lose their minds when they see it.”

“Or they’ll laugh when I look like a fish out of water on stage.”

Hyunggu rolled his eyes. “This is day one of practicing this routine. Slow down. Let’s focus on one movement at a time.”

He ran through the arm placement first, confirming that yes, Yuto was good with that. When they got to the body roll, Hyunggu instructed him to try it first without any direction in order to diagnose the problem.

“I really like this song choice, by the way,” he noted while he queued up the corresponding section of Velvet .

Yuto allowed that small amount of assurance to stamp out the nerves threatening to burn at his chest.

He took a breath, nodded for Hyunggu to hit play, and tried his best to transfer the rhythm of the song from his shoulders to his chest to his waist to his hips.

Hyunggu’s scrunched up features confirmed that he wasn’t just imagining how awkward it looked.

“Maybe if we isolate the movements instead of trying to roll all the way through? Here.”

Hyunggu broke it down into three distinct steps: chest, waist, hips.

“You’re good here,” he noted with his chest bowed out. “And when you get here you don’t center your weight so by the time your hips come into play it almost looks like you’re trying to stop yourself from falling.”

Yuto nodded diligently.

“Let’s focus on your waist first. Give me your hand.”

Yuto extended his arm with palm up, but Hyunggu flipped his hand over and rested it along the expanse below his navel. “Feel here when I move. Feel how exact and centered I am.”

That still sounded too vague to Yuto, but when Hyunggu’s body moved under him, he began to understand.

Hyunggu placed his hand on top of Yuto’s, locking him into body heat on both sides of his palm. “Do you feel where I’m tightening? It’s right in the center, right? I’m driving my weight through the floor.”

Although Yuto felt Hyunggu’s precise muscle movement with the first roll of his body, Hyunggu continued the motion several times before he finally stilled.

“Okay. You try.”

Yuto took a breath and squared his stance. Just as Hyunggu hit play on his phone with his left hand, his right settled on Yuto’s own abdomen. “Let me feel you,” Hyunggu said seriously, eyes focused where his fingers rested against Yuto’s skin.

Yuto heard the opening notes of the song tucked behind intrusive static in his ears. Hyunggu looked up at him—it was only then that Yuto even realized he hadn’t started moving—and giggled just short of impatient before restarting the song.

This time, Yuto moved.

The weight of Hyunggu’s hand on him seemed to help Yuto to know when to tighten his lower abdominal muscles, and when Hyunggu turned his hand to a fist in the exact middle of his stomach, Yuto focused on centering the movements.

“Good,” Hyunggu praised with a pat of his hand, now flattened once more. The vibrancy of his expression convinced Yuto he had actually improved. Hyunggu tended to say exactly what he meant, whether compliment or complaint. “Did that feel better?”

“I think so.”

“It looked better, too. Again.”

Hyunggu walked him through combining his newly mastered waist roll with that of his chest before moving on to the final set.

“What we just fixed in your waist will solve most of the problem, but I’d also suggest bending your knees a bit.”

So Yuto did. This time, he went first, and the squint in Hyunggu’s eye told him he didn’t magically master the hip roll without any further guidance.

“You’re snapping too much. It needs to be more fluid. Watch me.” Hyunggu stood sideways so Yuto could see his body in the same way the audience would. “It’s called a roll for a reason. You’re snapping your hips forward like this—“

Yuto laughed with how obscene Hyunggu looked. He was right; that was more of a thrust . The realization that Yuto had just done that unknowingly in front of a member and a friend caused embarrassment to prickle at his cheeks.

“—a roll is smoother.”

And it was. Hyunggu’s adjusted movement was still sensual but not at all aggressive. It caused Yuto’s eyes to linger on his hips for a beat too long after Hyunggu’s body stilled. He imagined that’s exactly what the choreographer had in mind: the audience in rapture.

Yuto nodded resolutely and tried again.

“Almost!” Hyunggu encouraged first with his voice and then with his hands.

With palms on either side of Yuto’s hips and his breath against Yuto’s shoulder, he guided him through the motion.

It was a short back-hug around his midsection that told Yuto he’d succeeded after the fifth try.

They worked to put all three of the sections together, and Hyunggu was unsurprisingly correct that when focusing on his balance and his fluidity, the move came together. By the end of the hour, Yuto felt accomplished rather than frustrated.

“I remember you helping me with the original choreo. Wasn’t there a body roll in that, too?” Yuto asked with his back against the mirror, water bottle in hand.

Hyunggu warmed up for his own practice session in the middle of the room.

“I think so. You’re much better now.”

“I was about to say I should watch that clip back, but maybe not.”

“From what I remember, it wasn’t bad—I mean you won—but it looked like you’d never thought about using your hips for anything other than swinging a baseball bat.”

Yuto mocked offense. “Are you suggesting I looked like a sexless virgin?”

“Yes,” Hyunggu deadpanned without looking up from the deep stretch of his torso doubled over his legs.

“Well,” Yuto shot back, “you weren’t nearly as attentive back then as you are now.”

That got Hyunggu to look up. “Oh, really?”

“Mmhmm.”

It was only within the last year that Yuto and Hyunggu started talking more, understanding each other more. There was that distance—physical, living in separate dorms; social, having different friends in school—that kept them cordial but without affection toward each other at first and for a while.

He felt almost as comfortable with Hyunggu as he did with Wooseok now. Almost.

“How would you rate my teaching skills now?”

Yuto smiled. “9.96 out of 10.”

Hyunggu rolled his eyes: a perfectionist dissatisfied.

“There’s always room for improvement.”

____

I change my mind. You get the 10/10 , Yuto texted Hyunggu just a few days later. He’d shown the choreographer the first sequence of steps in his dance routine, and apart from minor adjustments, Yuto received uncharacteristic praise.

He wasn’t a terrible dancer to begin with, and probably not the worst in the group overall, but if their choreographer dismissed only half the members in preparation for a comeback, as he often did, Yuto almost always had to hang back.

Maybe he should allow himself to ask for help more often if this was the result. Though, he wasn’t sure he could admit he needed it to anyone other than Wooseok or Hyunggu.

Hyunggu:
^.^ Not that I’m complaining, but what happened to all that room for improvement?

Yuto:
It was only .04 percent !!!!!
And I didn’t get scolded during today’s progress meeting, so I’m grading you on a curve now

Hyunggu:
Thank you, kind teacher

Yuto:
Thank you , amazing, fantastic, number one teacher of all time

Hyunggu:
Now this is grade inflation
But no problem at all
Let me know if you need help with anything else, okay?

Yuto wanted to offer the same in return, but he sent a simple thumbs up instead. Not only was there no way Hyunggu’s special unit needed any more opinions than they already had, but also with a group filled with pentagon’s leading producer, lyric writers, and choreographer, he couldn’t imagine them actually needing any kind of help at all.

But when Jinho was sitting in the living room when Yuto got out of the shower that night, he decided to check in on him, at least, since they were in the same situation.

“What song did you end up choosing, hyung?”

Yuto plopped down beside him on the couch with the ends of his hair still soaked and the tops of his cheeks still pink.

“Aoa’s Bingle Bangle,” Jinho replied with his hands up by his ears, mimicking the choreography of the song’s chorus.

“That shouldn’t be too hard, right?”

Jinho leaned his head back, relaxed. “Don’t underestimate cute choreo. When there are fewer sequences, everything has to be even more precise and perfect. Going to try my best not to fuck it up.”

“I’m sure the fans will love it.”

“I hope so. Apparently the company wants us to perform for each other before we get in front of the audience.”

“Hm, why?”

“Pentagon maker parallel. Honestly, I think it’s so they can film it and make a pentory episode about how good our teamwork is even when we’re working separately.”

Images of his hands on Hyunggu’s stomach, Hyunggu’s hands on his hips, flittered across Yuto’s mind.

“My suggestion to Hwitaek was to make it fun with like an arbitrary rating system and silly prizes and punishments,” Jinho added.”I don’t think any of us really need pentagon maker flashbacks.”

Yuto nodded. Even more than Jinho, Yuto knew that.

So suspiciously on time that Jinho and Yuto both looked around the room to see if their leader was hiding behind the furniture in the maknae dorm, Hwitaek texted the group chat.

Hwitaek:
special pentory filming for concert preparation next friday
everyone will perform their unit/solo stages for the group (staff evaluation comes the week after)
it’ll be fun and not stressful, so please don’t worry, just have a complete draft of your your routines by next friday

“Ah, you were right,” Yuto noted.

Jinho made a “when am I not” face, and Yuto couldn’t help but to agree.

_____

Yuto spent the following week learning and polishing the rest of his routine. Even though Hwitaek had said not to worry, and Jinho had since reiterated the same, Yuto wasn’t planning on embarrassing himself in front of the group (and later, the fans, who would watch the episode after the concert).

Hyunggu’s advice on his posture and his balance helped Yuto to master the latter part of the choreography, and by the time Friday arrived, he felt mildly confident that he wouldn’t look totally incompetent.

“Everyone,” Hwitaek addressed toward the camera once the entire group and two camera producers squashed themselves into the living room of the hyung-line dorm.

Filming in their home emphasized their bond, so the company had said, so Yuto and Hongseok carried their coffee table into Shinwon’s room and scooted the entertainment center several feet down the wall to make way for a makeshift stage. “We’re practicing today, and who better to judge our progress than our members?”

Hwitaek giggled awkwardly, as he often did when faced with a camera when he wasn’t performing, but he more smoothly explained the judging criteria—Hyojong in number of plant leaves wilted (the lower the score, the better); Shinwon in number of burgers (the higher the score, the better); Yanan in facial expressions (grins, giggles, and grimaces all counted). The producers looked exhausted already; their job of keeping score to decide the punishments and prizes—which it appeared the company had prepared—would not be an easy one. Then again, Yuto wasn’t sure it was ever easy when it came to all ten of them doing something, anything together.

First unit up was Yanan and Changgu, and the group quickly realized they hadn’t accounted for what would happen when the judges themselves performed. Somehow a solution rose out of the ensuing chatter, and Yuto reclined where he sat on the floor with his back against the couch to listen to their r&b performance. Changgu and Yanan’s styles were noticeably different, although they tended to occupy similar sets of lines in Pentagon’s songs. Goosebumps littered Yuto’s arms as he listened to their harmonies; he wasn’t surprised when Hyojong proclaimed just one half of a leaf wilted.

Yuto wasn’t sure of the order (or if anyone else was sure, either). As unit after unit performed, his palms only gathered more sweat. Jinho had been right that the judging was mostly a joke, so he wasn’t worried about points or wins like he was when he first had to complete this challenge. In fact, he wasn’t sure what it was that made him physically jump when Changgu, the ever-attentive emcee for the evening, finally called his name.

A chorus of “oooooh”s propelled him to his feet. Hwitaek had the music for each performance queued on his phone, so Yuto had only time to adjust his shirt, take a deep breath, and close his eyes before Hwitaek hit play.

Unconsciously, his eyes fell to Hyunggu’s. He registered a collective yell during the body roll, but it was too far in the distance, like he was sitting at the bottom of a pool while his family played above him. He expected Hyunggu’s gaze to travel down his body, to evaluate just how much he’d improved, but his eyes never left Yuto’s. Even when Yuto finally allowed himself to focus on the judges, since this was a competition after all, a competition for which he was the reigning champ, he knew Hyunggu’s attention was on him.

It felt weird, Yuto decided halfway through the routine. This was always the other way around. It was always Yuto watching Hyunggu—through the mirror in their practice room, from the wings of the formation. Everyone watched Hyunggu; it was impossible not to.

The cheering that accompanied his rapping of LE’s verses also seemed out of place, but he tried to let the sound fuel him rather than cause him to falter.

When the last note rang, Yuto’s breathing filled the silence for half a moment before the clapping began. He smiled from his final position: lying on his back with his knees bent.

It was Jinho who offered him a hand to sit up. He looked over to the judges’ panel to see 0 wilted leaves, 9 burgers, and apparently 6 moments when Yanan had to look away (embarrassment, he claimed, was a compliment in this case; Yuto didn’t overthink it).

Jinho was last, so Yuto took his hyung’s spot on the floor in between Hyunggu’s legs. Hyunggu squeezed his shoulders as Bingle Bangle started, and Yuto allowed himself to believe he’d succeeded.

_____

In the end, it was Shinwon and Hyojong who won. Yuto suspected it was the judging compromise, that guest judges (Hongseok and Wooseok) would step in when required, that led to their victory, but he clapped and extended hugs to both anyway.

“And your prize,” Hwitaek announced, “is a karaoke machine!”

Shinwon yelled, and Hyojong yelled, and a crowd gathered around the impressive console. Yuto remained seated behind the chaos. Hyunggu made no effort to move either, so they stayed with Hyunggu’s legs hanging next to Yuto’s arms.

“Okay, let’s figure out the losing team. Pd-nim?”

Behind the camera, the two producers held up a score sheet. Against all odds and rational reasoning, Hwitaek, Wooseok, and Hyunggu had the lowest score.

Hwitaek dropped to his knees, Wooseok feigned a look of betrayal, and although Yuto didn’t turn around to see Hyunggu’s face, he felt his knees tighten just slightly.

Yuto patted his right leg.

“Everyone,” Hwitaek addressed to the camera, a fake sob on the edge of his voice. “We worked hard, but we respect the judges’ decision. We’ll perform our punishment with honor.”

“Honor’s a bit dramatic,” Hongseok whispered from the couch, and Yuto snorted.

The producers explained that only one person would have to complete the task. Rock, paper, scissors would ultimately decide their fate, and even after demanding a best 2 out of 3, Hyunggu lost.

“Why me?” he whined with a pout so cute Yuto could see Hyojong restraining himself from declaring the whole competition a mistrial.

Hwitaek acted quickly now that he was free from the torture himself. He skipped over to the producers-corner and grabbed a folded sheet of paper. Hyunggu took it, closed his eyes, and opened it to the group.

“Receive a kiss on the cheek from your members,” Woosoek read aloud.

Hyunggu’s expression made no mistake at his annoyance.

“This whole thing was rigged,” he whined. Somehow, it was always Hyunggu who was made to kiss someone during a broadcast. He probably wasn’t used to being on the receiving end.  

Rigged or not, Hyunggu stood in the middle of the living room in front of the camera. “Just make it quick, please.”

That was his first mistake.

Hyojong secured Hyunggu’s head in between both hands and kissed him for so long that Hwitaek pushed him forward and out of the way. The leader was less torturous but still made a show of making a disgusting kissing sound.

Each member made their kiss memorable in some way, following Hyojong’s lead.

Shinwon kissed his ear in what surely was meant to be funny but instead looked more intimate than the soft “I love you” Hongseok whispered before he planted his own peck.

Yuto held back a grin when he saw just how red Hyunggu’s ears were once he made it to the front of the line.

He whispered a quick “no funny business, I promise” before touching his lips lightly to Hyunggu’s cheek.

His skin was warm. His skin was soft.

And when Yuto laid in bed that night, he pressed his mouth to his arm like a curious teenager of yesteryear, now wondering what his skin would feel like against someone else’s lips.

____

The actual evaluation happened a week later.  They traveled to the concert venue and ran through each performance section with a collection of company officials serving as an audience of sorts.

The prize this time was a simple nod; the punishment a critique spoken through a microphone so every member and producer heard.

Yuto had to force his eyes open when he finished with his routine, the second-to-last from the end of the setlist. He held his breath.

“The choreography looks fine, Yuto, but I can see your wheels turning while you dance. You need to let yourself go. Feel the music more.”

Yuto nodded and bowed, accepted the criticism as easily as he could without internalizing it. This doesn’t mean you’re not good enough , he self-soothed while making his way off stage.

On the one hand, he was happy to have mastered the difficult dance routine--thank God for Hyunggu--but amidst the technical aspects of learning the choreography, he forgot the energy, the atmosphere. This wasn’t the first time Yuto received a similar evaluation.

The first was during his audition in Korea after being scouted from Japan. “You look bored,” the panelists had said.

The eighth time was from Hyunggu as he taught him unit choreography for yet another pentagon maker challenge. “Why do you look angry?” He’d smoothed out the wrinkle in between Yuto’s eyebrows with his thumb. “There’s a difference between sexy and angry.”

His face never seemed to match his intention. He was honestly surprised none of the members mentioned it during the pentory filming.

Yuto grabbed his phone after dinner—a solemn affair as all of the maknae dorm inhabitants received critiques except for Jinho—and made his way to his bedroom, flopping onto his mattress in front of his laptop.

He typed in “Yuto Fancam” and clicked on the first result. He knew that he focused on the individual steps and sequences while he danced rather than the mood, but he didn’t know what that actually looked like to other people.

Maybe Yuto understood the issue when all he could think while watching himself in this video was “yes, that is my face and my body. I do own both of those things.” Surely he should have felt something else? Anything else?  

He needed a comparison.

Finding a Changgu focus was easy enough, and Yuto couldn’t keep the smile from his lips as his hyung’s bright energy radiated off the screen. As much as Changgu was clearly more skilled at this than he was, Yuto wasn’t sure learning from him was feasible: rapping verses weren’t known for their aegyo.

Naturally, he thought of Hyunggu next. Intense, passionate Hyunggu.

Yuto had watched Hyunggu perform hundreds of times, in person, right in front of his eyes, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever watched him through a screen. When they reviewed their performances or watched their music videos, Yuto focused on himself. He wondered briefly if that was narcissistic of him before pressing play.

An entire three seconds into the video and Yuto was grabbing his phone.

Yuto:
I don’t know how to ask this without sounding stupid

Hyunggu:
I don’t know how to answer if I don’t know the question.
I won’t think you’re stupid, I promise

What’s up?

Yuto was happy Hyunggu decided to live in the hyung dorm, not only because he loved having Jinho around but also because he had an excuse not to have to have this conversation in person.

Yuto:
How does even just your face look hot when you dance?

He hit send, immediately wishing he’d worded it differently, but he couldn’t bring himself to actually type “sexy” and it wasn’t an issue of being handsome.

Yuto dug his face into his blanket. It didn’t matter if Hyunggu didn’t call him stupid; he could feel shame down to the tips of his toes.

Hyunggu:
Um
I want to give a helpful answer, but I’m not sure I know what you mean.
Like facial expressions???

Yuto:
Yeah, I should have just said it like that, sorry.
How are you so good at charismatic facial expressions on stage?

Hyunggu:
Honestly, it came pretty naturally to me

Yuto felt his stomach drop. Of course. This was Hyunggu. Intense passionate Hyunggu, who had natural talent seeping out of his pores. Yuto knew Hyunggu worked incredibly hard and would never diminish his diligence, but in this moment, Yuto wished his friend had at one point been just as hopeless as he was now.

Hyunggu:
But I think I can help.
I’ll pick you up at 10 tomorrow night.

Relief flooded through him.

Yuto:
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
I can just meet you at the practice room?

Hyunggu:
No problem and no need. we’re going out. See you tomorrow!

Going out. With Hyunggu. To learn how to look...sexy. For a concert. In front of their fans.

It’ll be fine.

_____

“Are you really not going to tell me where we’re going?” Yuto asked as he chose the back-most seat of the 10:30 bus.

Hyunggu and Yuto both wore hats down low and masks pulled up high, but they weren’t going to take any unnecessary chances of being seen.

“Nope. I don’t want you to overthink it.”

“I’m about eight over-thinking steps ahead of you, Hyunggu.”

Hyunggu, Yuto could tell from the way his eyes scrunched up, grinned at him.

“Relax. First off, this is going to be fun. Secondly, by the end of the night you’re not even going to recognize yourself.”

Yuto swallowed thickly. What the hell was he getting himself in to?

He only had to suffer in his racing thoughts for ten more minutes before Hyunggu signaled for the bus to stop. Yuto didn’t recognize the street he stepped onto, and Hyunggu, sensing as much, grabbed his wrist and pulled him down the block.

Maraschino , the sign above the door they stopped in front of read. Were they going to a restaurant? Were aphrodisiacs the answer?

No , Yuto quickly realized when he had to show his ID to a bouncer twice his size inside of the main doors.

Hyunggu slipped his hand from Yuto’s wrist down to his palm, interlocking their fingers, as he led him past a long bar and into a dark corner of a nightclub Yuto didn’t even know existed.

He felt the bass of the music in his pulse; the pulse of the crowd brushed against his back; the back of his hat felt fastened too tightly in the suffocating heat of the club.

Once Hyunggu seemed satisfied with their spot beside the far wall, he moved his hand from Yuto’s and reached up to remove his mask.

Yuto caught his wrist, holding it still where Hyunggu’s fingers brushed the shell of his ear.

“Aren’t you afraid we’re going to get noticed?” he practically yelled.

Hyunggu shook his head, reached up on his toes to respond at a more comfortable volume. “This place is age-restricted, the lights are low, and it’s a weeknight. We’ll be okay. I need to see your face, remember?”

Yuto nodded while Hyunggu continued to remove both of their masks.

“How is this supposed to help?” Yuto asked suspiciously with a glance around the club. It didn’t feel like a particularly sexy environment. Sweaty, definitely, but not sexy.

Hyunggu stepped half a foot closer. “Trust me.” He looked directly into Yuto’s eyes, searching for confirmation, and something in Yuto’s expression must have satisfied him, because he continued. “I want you to imagine that you walked in here, alone.”

Yuto had no doubt that his confusion carved wrinkles in between his brows; Hyunggu smoothed them out with his thumb.

“You came here tonight alone, and when you walked in, you saw me sitting at the bar.”

They both turned towards the counter lining the adjacent wall. For the number of people on the dance floor, seats remained open in front of the many bartenders passing out drinks.

Yuto tried to picture Hyunggu in his jeans and his fitted shirt sitting with his fingers wrapped around a beer.

“I noticed you, too, and when our eyes met, you had no choice but to walk over to me.”

Yuto giggled, because this sounded like a badly-written drama opening. Hyunggu looked betrayed by his laughter.

“At least try to imagine a scenario where you’re attracted to me,” he bit out.

Yuto’s laughter stopped.

He nodded.

“You ask me to dance.”

Hyunggu’s hands were then on his hips, but they quickly slid to his back, one hand low, the other below his shoulder blades.

Hyunggu was guiding him, pulling him close to his body.

His hands rested around Hyunggu’s neck.

“You like the feeling of me against you,” he whispered close to Yuto’s ear, and Yuto felt a pointed roll of Hyunggu’s hips against his.

Apparently, he’d looked down at the contact, at the friction of their jeans sliding against one another, because Hyunggu’s finger hooked under his chin and lifted so Yuto looked him in the eyes.

“You want me.”

Yuto nodded.

“Show me how much you want me.”

So he did.

Yuto moved his hands to Hyunggu’s hips and switched their positions, all the while moving backwards so Hyunggu stood with his back against the wall.

Hyunggu’s eyes looked surprised; Yuto took satisfaction in that.

It was his turn to roll his body against Hyunggu, and he stayed so focused on ensuring every inch of them was touching that he forgot the lesson, their purpose for being here.

When Hyunggu leaned in, voice more breathy than Yuto had ever heard it after practice or after the gym, to say, “You look so fucking sexy right now,” Yuto let out an involuntary whine.

Hyunggu’s fingers found their way into the limited space between them to rest lightly on his face.

“Your eyes are focused solely on me, but you don’t look angry, baby, you look like you want to eat me up.” The pad of his thumb moved to Yuto’s mouth. “You keep running your tongue along your lip.”

Without thinking, Yuto did just that, allowing the tip of his tongue to taste Hyunggu’s skin.

He watched Hyunggu watch his mouth.

Hyunggu swallowed and seemed to make a conscious effort to continue talking.

“And you look confident, like you’re in control. When we stood the other way, you looked like a deer in the headlights.”

I like when you’re the one in control , sat where his mind and his mouth met, but Hyunggu kept talking before he had a chance to decide where it would stay.

“When you’re on stage, you can’t think about being alone or even having an audience in front of you.” Hyunggu reached his arms around Yuto’s neck and leaned so his mouth spoke against his collarbone. “Imagine you’re with someone, that you want someone.”

Hyunggu pulled back as far as he could, resting his head against the wall behind him. He looked sated, satisfied somehow.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, I think I understand,” Yuto answered. He moved Hyunggu’s bangs out of his eyes. “Should we get out of here?”

Hyunggu almost laughed. “Yeah, you’ve definitely got it. Let’s go, loverboy, before you get us both in trouble.”

Yuto wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but he allowed Hyunggu to grab his hand and lead him back out into the cold night air anyway.

_____

When Yuto awoke the next morning, he felt as if he’d downed five mix drinks before leaving the club. His head throbbed; he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had happened last night, that there was a shift, but the specifics were just out of his reach, like a drunken memory that fuzzed around the edges.

He chugged water shirtless and barefoot in the kitchen. Yanan cocked an eyebrow at his disheveled look as he navigated around him to make his breakfast. He stared at the eggs. He blinked at the rice. He grunted a decline when Yanan offered him some of the food that entranced him.

Yuto chose instead to shower. He found hot water to be a cure for most things that troubled him: a lyric the company kept rejecting, a proverb he couldn’t memorize, the number of months it’d been since he last saw his mom and dad. He never found his problems to melt away completely, but they would lose their potency, their strength.

So, mid shower, he decided this: last night had been Hyunggu’s idea from beginning to end and thus he wouldn’t feel weird or awkward about what had happened, despite the intangible uneasiness he worked to scrub from his skin. He hadn’t stepped out of line or made Hyunggu uncomfortable. At least he didn’t think so. It had been a didactic fiction that they both helped to write, and he had learned something new: his sexuality wasn’t just for soft pants in the dark of 4am or for showers—not the thinking kind—that he allowed to last ten minutes longer than he should. He could want, could write want clear across his face with hands on his hips in the corner of clubs. And in a few days time, with eyes on him in the center of a stage.

Yuto felt refreshed both in body and in mind when he was finished, and he made his way over to the company building for group dance practice without the weight of uncertainty in his stomach that he woke up with.

A range of commitment to stretching littered the floor. Despite Hyojong being one of the group’s lead dancers, he giggled with each pose. Yuto had missed the gag that set him off, but Hwitaek appeared to be involved, his screams sounding louder than whoever was calling out the sequence. Shinwon and Woosoek looked like they were being productive by couple-stretching, but Yuto could see in Shinwon’s grimace that Wooseok was purposefully trying to bend him in painful ways. The other half of the room was chatty—Changgu was over-explaining the most recent episode of his favorite drama to Yanan while Hongseok and Jinho discussed an American album Yuto had never heard of.

Hyunggu seemed to listen to the chaos around him: his eyes fell on members’ conversations, he giggled when appropriate, asking “what?” when he suspected Hyojong or Shinwon was lying out of his ass, but he didn’t contribute much himself. He was actually stretching, as they were all meant to be.

Yuto plopped down beside him.

His attention focused on where his fingers reached forward to grab his toes, but Yuto swore he saw Hyunggu startle in his peripheral vision.

He looked over to smile at his friend, a simple “I didn’t mean to scare you,” kind of grin, but Hyunggu now stared resolutely at the floor.

“Did you sleep okay?” he decided to ask. They’d gotten back late after just barely missing the bus and having to wait thirty minutes for another. Goosebumps ran across Yuto’s skin as if he still stood with the nighttime breeze biting at his arms. The memory of Hyunggu pressing up against him, providing him warmth since their bodies were now warmed to each other, made its way out of the recesses of his mind.

Hyunggu glanced quickly over at Yuto and nodded his head.

Before Yuto had the chance to wonder why Kang Hyunggu looked uncomfortable in his favorite practice room before dancing his favorite choreography while joking around with his best friends, Hwitaek called them all to order.

______

Half a day, an entire workout, and three quarters of a lunch later, Yuto had time to practice on his own. He itched to see if what Hyunggu taught him would translate once he was without body heat and soft whispers.

He first ran through the steps at a quarter effort just to remind himself of the sequencing and to warm up again after the morning’s group practice.

When Yuto reset with the intention of executing the routine fully and seriously, he took a deep breath and recalled Hyunggu’s advice.

Imagine you want someone .

And he did.

Or he tried.

If the instinct to scrape his nails into the soft flesh of his thighs once Velvet finished was any indication, he was at least more successful than he had been before last night.

To be sure, Yuto decided to film himself. During music video filming or performing on music shows, the group all huddled around a monitor or phone screen to watch back their execution. It was only then that they noticed Hongseok was half a beat too slow or that Jinho completely forgot a step in the second chorus. So he set up his phone on a trolley usually stacked with towels and water bottles, made sure the center of the room was in focus, and hit record.

Some three and a half minutes later, Yuto blinked away the sweat from his eyes to watch back the footage, but instead of hitting play, he found himself navigating to his messaging app and clicking on Hyunggu’s name.

No appropriate text occurred to him; Yuto sent the video to Hyunggu unaccompanied by explanation or question, and with a notice from Changgu that there was chicken waiting for him at home, he walked back to the dorm with the weight of his phone tap, tap, tapping against his thigh.

______

“So then Shinwon hyung asked me if he was wearing too many layers. He was wearing a tank top, a t-shirt, a sweater, and a jacket. It’s not even that cold outside…”

“Was he just fucking with you?”

“I don’t think so? He looked serious, but knowing him it was a prank, and I’m going to wake up tomorrow with his entire closet piled onto my head or something,” Changgu replied to Jinho before spotting Yuto standing by the door. He listened to their conversation with a fond smile on his face. “Yutooooo, come get some food.”

“Did you tell Shinwon hyung it was too many layers?” He asked on his way to the chicken.

“I did convince him to ditch the sweatshirt, so if he suddenly comes down with a cold, you all can blame me.”

“Oh!” Wooseok exclaimed around a horrifically large bite. “Did you guys hear about the added schedule?”

All four responded with a definite “no.”

“There’s a special music program happening in Manila the day after the concert. We’re going straight from the venue to the airport.”

Yanan asked aloud the question written across the others’ faces: “Why don’t they tell us this sooner? The concert’s two days away.”

“And why hasn’t Hwitaek hyung texted the entire group about it yet?” Changgu added.

Yuto instinctively took out his phone and checked his lock screen for notifications, but Hwitaek didn’t seem to have the power to know when they were talking about him today. Hyunggu, too, was silent.

“He’s probably waiting on a final confirmation,” Jinho suggested.

Yuto nodded. Checked his phone. Took a bite. Checked his phone.

“Where were you last night, by the way?”

“Me?” Yuto confirmed.

“Mmhmm.”

Why Yanan, not his roommate Wooseok, asked Yuto that here, in the kitchen, with everyone else including their eldest hyung listening on, Yuto did not know, but he wanted nothing more than for Shinwon’s entire closet to bury him in a sudden hidden camera prank.

“Last night?”

“Yeah, I was filming everyone for a ‘to do list’ update, but I couldn’t find you or Hyunggu. I texted you both.”

“Did you?” He didn’t remember seeing any texts from Yanan last night, but he was also considerably preoccupied.

“Well, your texts are working now,” Wooseok said from beside him. “You have a text from Hyunggu.”

Yuto snatched his phone off the table, for some reason worried that Wooseok would try to read his messages, as if he’d ever done that before, as if he even knew Yuto’s passcode. He swallowed his last bite of chicken chokingly-close to too fast, and bolted to his bedroom.

“Why is everyone acting so weird today?” he heard Changgu complain as he raced down the hallway.

Yuto had no idea what was up with Shinwon, but the source of his own behavior stared at him from his lock screen.

Hyunggu
* New Message*

Yuto turned out the light and climbed into bed. Given the option, he would have preferred to ignore the message for at least another two hours, maybe go to the gym, work up endorphin-laden courage, but the likelihood Wooseok would sneak in, either out of curiosity or simply because this was his room, too, was too high.

So, he unlocked his phone.

Hyunggu:
that’s
you
wow
yuto
wow
better
much better

Yuto:
thanks

He threw his phone across his bed, buried himself under the covers, and screamed into his pillow.

_____

Yuto rarely left a stage without some sort of regret, but he was mostly satisfied with his performance once he finally stood in front of the thousands of fans that attended their third concert. If the screams and tweets were any indication, he mastered not only the dance routine itself but also the entire atmosphere of his solo, and from what he saw from the wings, his groupmates had equal success.

He didn’t have much time to dwell on the silly mistakes when company vans waited outside the venue to take the members and their managers directly to the airport. Yuto hoped the adrenaline of the show would distract his mind from the hours of waiting to be endured while they got through security, onto the plane, and over to Manila.

At it turned out, that adrenaline also kept him from sleeping more than a single hour during the flight. He stepped off the plane feeling groggy and irritable with none of the benefits of productive rest. So when everyone paired off to assign hotel rooms and Yuto’s lethargy kept him from moving a muscle or saying a word, it was Hyunggu who took a large step to his left to claim Yuto as his roommate.

Yuto peered down at him, but Hyunggu was already looking at their manager to gather the room key.

“Get as much sleep as you can. We’ll leave for the venue at 3pm tomorrow.”

If they all went to bed within the next hour, they had the potential to get seven hours of sleep, which was promising to a group who routinely went several days with fewer than that amount of rest combined, but the knowledge that every minute spent awake was one less minute spent sleeping kept Yuto staring up at the ceiling for half an hour and standing under scalding hot water for what felt like yet another half.

Hyunggu appeared to fall asleep more quickly; when Yuto emerged from his shower, he tiptoed around the room in the dark and cursed every squeaky spring in the mattress.

For all of his caution, as soon as Yuto got comfortable under the familiar feeling of a thin hotel comforter, he dropped his phone directly onto his face, producing a surprisingly loud thunk.

“Are you okay?” Hyunggu asked, voice more awake than Yuto would have expected. Neither had said much as they made their way up to the room and unpacked their suitcases.

“Yeah, sorry.” Yuto double-checked his alarm and placed his phone on the nightstand where it could no longer cause him pain.

“It’s okay. I was mostly awake.” He heard Hyunggu shift on his bed. “You did really well tonight, by the way.”

Yuto felt immediate embarrassment, as if thousands of people didn’t see him on stage just hours ago. “Thank you. I didn’t know you watched.”

“Of course I did.” Hyunggu paused. Yuto waited. “I thought I pushed you too far out of your comfort zone in the club, that you wouldn’t be able to take it  there on stage.” His distance from Yuto in the past week started to make more sense. “I was worried I freaked you out.”

This time Yuto shifted, propping himself up on his elbow. “Are you telling me you don’t picture me picking up hot guys in clubs on Friday nights?”

“Not exactly. I think you’d be forty percent more flustered and one hundred percent more drunk,” Hyunggu answered too quickly. Yuto wondered if he’d thought about this before just now.

“Me? Flustered? I think you’re thinking of someone else,” he teased.

“Shut up.” Yuto felt a pillow hit his arm. “I’ve never seen you initiate flirting a day in your life.”

Despite Hyunggu not exactly having the opportunity to see Yuto with someone he liked, he managed to be exactly correct. The relationship he’d stumbled into in high school was one of convenience with a best friend, and his single hookup from his trainee days started and ended with the guy telling him exactly what to do. The guy never tried anything again after that, and Yuto wondered if it was because of his inexperience and inexpertise.

Even though it felt like Hyunggu had somehow seen him during those awkward and mostly unsuccessful years of dating, something in Yuto wanted to prove Hyunggu wrong.

To surprise him like he had in the club that night.

“You really have no confidence in me, do you?” he asked, feet swinging off the mattress and onto the ground. He walked over to Hyunggu’s bed and slid under the blanket.

“What are you doing?”

“Showing you what it’s actually like,” Yuto answered simply, pulling Hyunggu against his chest.

“Like what’s like?” Hyunggu’s voice was muffled; Yuto could feel his lips move through his shirt.

“What it looks like when I’m interested in someone.”

“Stop fucking with me.” He punctuated his words with a balled fist banged lightly against Yuto’s hip, but his hand stayed there, fingers spread out, pinky dipping just barely below Yuto’s shirt.

Yuto giggled against Hyunggu’s hair. “I’m not. Thank you for helping me, and not making fun of me.”

“Why would I make fun of you?”

“You said it yourself, I’m not good at this stuff. You see straight through me, but you don’t make me feel stupid because of it.”

Hyunggu pulled back just far enough to get a look at Yuto’s face in the darkness. He moved his hand from Yuto’s hip to his cheek. “I don’t know if anyone else has made you feel that way, but fuck them. I like awkward, shy Yuto who randomly comes into my bed and acts like he’s making a move but really just cuddles me because he’s sweet and soft in addition to being hot without even knowing it.”

Hyunggu buried his face back into Yuto’s chest, as if he hadn’t just sent a shiver over Yuto’s skin.

Yuto fell asleep thinking of hands and hips and darkness all over again.

_____

“Ow, fuck—“

“What the—“

Yuto reached behind him in a flexible feat to turn off the alarm blasting from the nightstand.

Back in the bed, Hyunggu, with his heavy eyes and his puffy cheeks, rubbed at his forehead.

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

Yuto leaned down and brought Hyunggu’s forehead to his lips. He spoke against his skin.

“Are you okay?”

“That’s one way to wake up,” Hyunggu groaned.

“Banging your head against my elbow?”

“No, you kissing me.”

Yuto pulled away to look into Hyunggu’s eyes. He looked shy, happy. He looked at his lips. They were pink, soft.

Yuto leaned in, thinking of nothing else but feeling Hyunggu against him.

“Can I—“

“BREAKFAST!”

Three bangs sounded against their door, and Yuto deflated against his pillow—well, Hyunggu’s pillow, technically,

“Let’s eat!”

It sounded like Hyojong and Hwitaek; it sounded like Yuto’s early morning courage disappearing.

“I’ll wash up first.”

______

“Everyone sleep okay?” Their manager asked to the group as they all scarfed down much-needed calories after yesterday’s concert.

Yuto felt Hyunggu’s thigh against his. Neither of them said a word.

“Define ‘okay,’” Shinwon grumbled. “Hongseok snored the whole night.”

“I was singing you a lullaby, actually, and you’re being ungrateful,” Hongseok responded, and Shinwon rolled his eyes.

“Don’t quit your day job.”

Hwitaek sputtered. “Which is also a singer.”

“Wait,” Hyunggu interjected. “Yuto snored last night, too, actually.”

“What?”

No one had ever told him that before. Wooseok and all three of his siblings, for sparing his pride, now seemed like traitors.

“Oh, yeah, this is the first time you two have roomed together,” Changgu noted. Technically, that was true. Even when they went overseas, the dorm division stood.

“So now you know he snores. Yuto, what’d you learn about Hyunggu?”

Yuto thought immediately of the sound of Hyunggu’s voice, heavy with sleep, his mouth turned into a pout at the alarm, the warmth of their bodies pressed together through the night. He couldn’t say any of that, though, not only because he’d have ’something is up, but please don’t ask because I’m not sure either’ written across his forehead but also because he liked knowing those moments were only for them and no one else.

“His body wash smells good.” That was innocuous enough.

“Why were you smelling him?” Shinwon asked suspiciously.

“Can’t you smell him all the time?” Yanan wondered.

“Was it the expensive one I bought him for Christmas?” Wooseok chimed.

“Uh, it was in the shower, yes but wouldn’t that be weird, and maybe?”

“Wouldn’t it be weirder if you weren’t smelling him all the time? Like if you consciously chose not to smell him whenever he was around. That would mean he smelled like shit,” Hyojong noted with a laugh, deciding immediately that Hyunggu did in fact smell like shit.

“The middle ground has to be, just, breathing through your nose around someone. No intention, but you do end up smelling them.”

“Mouth breathers are missing out. Hwitaek hyung, known mouth breather, how do you feel about this?”

“I am not —“

Under the table, Hyunggu squeezed Yuto’s thigh, and Yuto let accumulated tension in his shoulders relax. He didn’t embarrass them both in front of the group, and his friends were, as always, absolute idiots.

Everything was fine .

_____

Despite the stress of a last-minute schedule, their stage in Manila was business as usual: hours of waiting, four minutes of performance, hours of waiting. But the fan chants were loud, the weather was warm, and Yuto had one more night of sleeping next to Hyunggu to look forward to.

Well, he assumed they’d sleep together again tonight.

Since breakfast, they’d played games together with Hyojong in the waiting room—Yuto wondered if the sound of Hyunggu’s laugh was always that sweet , if he’d always leaned in to him with every giggle—and sat side-by-side on their respective phones, knees knocking together.

Yuto itched for them to be alone.

“Will you go on a walk with me?” Hyunggu leaned over to ask as they sat in the back of the van returning to the hotel.

“Sure,” Yuto answered. He knew this was going be a “talk” more so than a walk. Neither of them addressed any of what happened since that first morning Hyunggu helped with his dance routine. Yuto wanted to think what he saw in Hyunggu stealing glances at him reflected the pull he felt in his own stomach—to be next to him, to touch him, to tell him every stupid thought that came into his head, but he didn’t know for sure. He wanted to know.

So he followed Hyunggu out of the van and out toward the street. If the members or managers noticed that they weren’t heading into the hotel, they didn’t say a word.

Their hands brushed as they walked along a sidewalk in an unfamiliar city, toward an unknown place. The sun was long since set.

“I thought maybe we could talk before we got back to Korea,” Hyunggu started.

“Yeah,” Yuto naturally agreed. As much as this conversation scared him, he knew not understanding each other in this moment could be the downfall of it all.

“Honestly, I’m still scared I’m pushing you or making you uncomfortable, and I obviously don’t want to do that.”

Yuto pulled Hyunggu to a stop. The street, luckily, was abandoned.

“I don’t know what I’m doing to make you think that. I thought last night—“

“That was only after I mentioned you being flustered, you were just trying to prove me wrong.”

“Hyunggu.” Yuto cupped his cheek. “You can’t keep telling me what I meant to do or say. I know I’m not as straightforward as you are, but let me make myself crystal clear.”

Hyunggu looked scared. Even after all that Yuto said, all that Yuto did, Hyunggu still looked like Yuto was going to break him. For all his confidence, in corners of clubs and on stages, for all of his talk of having no faith in Yuto , Hyunggu was the one who was unsure.

He was going to make sure they both left here with zero doubts.

“Kang Hyunggu, I like you a stupid amount. You’re more beautiful than you know and passionate to a fault and kind, so ridiculously kind, and I only want to be better when I’m with you. I want to kiss you, Hyunggu, can I—“

And Hyunggu’s lips were on his.

In some ways, Yuto was happy they hadn’t kissed this morning. Would he have appreciated Hyunggu’s hair between his fingers? The sound of his breath hitching just as their lips met? The feeling of wrapping his arms around Hyunggu’s waist and pulling him up to deepen the kiss?

When they parted, and they did unfortunately have to part, the moonlight sent stunning shadows across Hyunggu’s face.

“I like you, too.” He sounded breathless. “Probably too much. Probably for too long. You’re—I know it took a while for us to get close, but the more I got to know you, the more I wanted to know. The more I still want to know.”

Yuto kissed his cheek, just because he wanted to. “I want to tell you everything. What do you want to know?”

Hyunggu took his hand and set them reluctantly back to walking down the street, back toward the hotel. They both knew they couldn’t be gone for long.

“When did you start liking me?”

Yuto didn’t even have to pause to think. “There was a day, last year, maybe a year and a half ago, we had to pick up dinner for everyone. Do you remember?”

Hyunggu nodded, a smile finding its way easily to his mouth. “I remember.”

“It seems silly now that we’ve—you know—but that night was the first time I remember us really talking. You told me about your parents’ pets and the waist injury you had in high school, how nervous you were for the new album. You helped me order at the counter when I didn’t know how to pronounce whatever that monstrosity Shinwon ordered was. That was the most we’d ever talked at one time, just the two of us. Even then, I wanted to be alone with you more, so I knew you were only focused on me.”

“So you’re telling me it wasn’t me grinding on you in a club a couple weeks ago?”

Yuto laughed.

“That certainly didn’t hurt.”

_______

Wooseok was wrong, as it turned out. Things weren’t just fine. Yuto was more than fine. Hyunggu’s hands on him that night were much more than fine. The ridiculous screaming of their group mates when they told them a few weeks later that they were dating was two octaves higher than fine.

With Hyunggu’s hand in his, Yuto wasn’t just fine. He felt fucking fantastic.

______