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it’s in these moments, when everything is peace and serenity, as gentle as the small breaths settling against his skin, the long hair tickling his chin, the brief moment where fingers tighten around the front of his shirt, the steady breathing sound catching—the abrupt silence is deafening, unsettling— before it all evens out again, where moon bin finds himself lost deep, deep in his thoughts.
it’s here he is a victim to too many thoughts, when too-late is only just turning into too-early and there is exhaustion prickling deep in his bones, always had been, ever since he started training, his eyes fighting to stay open while his brain just won’t shut up. Bin shifts, carefully sliding his arm out from underneath her, the prickling feeling of pins and needles shooting up his numb arm making him wince. he’s careful, perhaps too careful, in untangling himself from her, pausing briefly when her forehead crinkles and her grip on the front of his shirt tightens. he smiles, he can’t really help it, as he gently cups her cheek, smoothing down stray hairs, before he unclasps her fingers from his shirt, one finger at a time. he pulls the blankets—still warm from his body heat—over her, tucking her in and making sure to cover her bare legs, before he presses a small kiss to her cheek and slips out of bed.
his thoughts run too fast and he is exhausted, feels the way he does after a long, grueling workout with his trainer.
he quietly shuts the bedroom door behind him, and he pads towards the kitchen. the dorms are dark, and he easily maneuvers around the piles of clothes, shoes, games, and books strewn all about—everything may be a mess but it is an organized mess (according to myungjun) and unfortunately he’s become very much aware of exactly how the mess is organized, to the point where he could navigate their landmine of a living room drunk with his eyes closed—though he is absolutely not speaking from prior experience.
the dorms are usually so lively, loud, but in the dead of night, the quiet reminds of the calm before a storm, though less ominous. bin yawns, drags a hand through his rough hair—notes that he should invest in more conditioner—and stumbles into the kitchen only to be met by—
“hey. why are you up so late?” minhyuk’s voice is low, gravely, and bin comes to a halt, right at the threshold of the kitchen. if he wasn’t so tired, he might have promptly spun right back around on his heels and marched back into his warm bed, back to stroking circles along a warm back and staring at the ceiling and thinking and thinking and thinking. avoiding. but, bin is exhausted and a little stressed and in need of a midnight snack (that’s way past midnight).
“I could ask you the same exact thing.” bin says, stutters out really. minhyuk's quieter than usual, eyes a little glazed over, as exhausted looking as bin feels.
bin's thoughts run wilder than ever as he takes in minhyuk’s messy bedhead, the way his hair sticks up in every direction, the softness in his eyes as he glances up at bin, for just a moment, before he glances back down at his water cup, the angles of his face pulled taut into a tight frown. bin's heart kicks up a new rhythm—a similar tempo, bin had noticed early on, way too early on, to the way his heart would skip a million beats whenever she would smile at him before leaning in to kiss him. the same rhythm it banged away the night he and minhyuk ended up too drunk, way too fucking drunk, and stumbling, giggling, bin’s memories of that night hazy aside from that single moment, the twinkle in minhyuk’s eyes and the way bin’s heart caught in his throat, and the way their noses were touching, bumping up against each other’s, and the way bin couldn’t step away from the feeling of content, of fondness, flooding his chest so full. the way bin leaned in and the way his lips were a little too chapped, but soft, clumsy but firm, how bin’s chest felt as if it would burst open and everything inside him would spill over, his body incapable of holding it all in. it’s the same way he felt, he noticed, when he kissed her.
(the next morning was quiet introspection and minhyuk awkwardly keeping his distance, especially whenever she came over. the next morning was overwhelming guilt that eventually spilled into a confession—he drunkenly cheated on her, did he not?
he expected anger, but she just shrugged, murmured, “it happens. it's okay, binnie. it's okay. it was just a kiss.”
and only then did he realize that he was crying and he wasn’t quite sure if it was entirely because of the overwhelming guilt tugging at deepest pits of him. he certainly thought too much about his best friend’s lips and about the content that swelled inside him at that moment. he thought too much.
minhyuk settled onto the practice room floor beside him, one night, later, and he said, sorry about that night. bin shrugged it off, muttered, it’s fine, shit happens.
he had closed his eyes. minhyuk hadn’t said anything in response.)
introspection came like a tidal wave crashing over him. it was not gentle. it was the kind of wave that crashed over his head and yanked him to the ground, holding him there while water rushed in his ears. it began with doubt and observations. he'd notice things about himself—things he never quite thought of before all this—the way his gaze would flicker over dongmin’s face, lingering too long, linger on jinwoo’s arms when they’d visit the gym together, the way he’d watch dramas and grin so widely at the lead actor, he’d second guess his intentions, did he really want to just be friends with jeongguk or was it something else? everything he used to think, every intention, became this hidden question, this confusion that he couldn’t quite understand. bin found himself opening up multiple search engines every night and scouring through forums, wondering, wondering, wondering. he thought am I gay? he thought, maybe, but it didn’t make sense when he had a girlfriend he liked very much, a girlfriend he liked kissing and touching just as much. it didn’t make sense when he’d still find other girls attractive. he scoured and scoured and found words like bisexual and wondered, kept on wondering. introspection turned into thoughts and thoughts and him wondering if he was somehow deceiving his girlfriend, stringing her on, because what if his bisexuality is just a stepping stone and he’s also lying to himself, as some forums argued, due to socialization. some days, he thought of girls, tried his best to ignore the way his girlfriend’s skirt would hike up when she bowed to him with the rest of her group backstage at one of the shows, and other days, he’d blush, focused entirely too much on boys. some days, he’d wonder if he was actually just super straight and faking it, while other days he’d wonder if he was pretending to still be attracted to girls so he wouldn’t hurt his girlfriend’s feelings, or because he felt an obligation to his parents and society to maintain that sliver of heterosexuality. internalized biphobia, homophobia, hatred (they all blurred for him), he read, was a thing. he wasn’t entirely sure where he stood, he never was, he just felt confused and tired and full of thoughts.
“gonna stand there like a zombie all night or what?” minhyuk’s voice cuts his thoughts off.
bin blinks and minhyuk is now leaning back in his chair, neck outstretched, the angles of his jaws causing shadows to stretch down him. minhyuk has a bag of chips balanced in his palm. he casually holds it out, offering bin some.
bin blinks, once, twice, stuffs the bubbling fondness in his chest, to nod quickly and stumble towards the table, settling into the chair across from minhyuk, reaching over to pluck a handful of chips and promptly stuff them in his mouth. the saltiness feels good. it's junk food he hasn’t consumed in a while. minhyuk snorts at the way bin shoves chips into his mouth.
“you’re gonna choke.”
“probably for the best.” bin mumbles, unable to hold back the slight whine as his crunching echoes in the kitchen.
minhyuk cackles, his eyes twinkling. “what are you thinking about this time?”
bin wants to say your lips, wants to add, boys and girls and feeling like an imposter whenever I kiss my girlfriend or look too closely at dongmin or jinwoo or myungjun or anyone really. instead, bin says, “why do noses run, but feet smell?”
minhyuk pauses, for just a moment, munching on his chips, as if he’s truly contemplating bin’s question. but then, he purses his lips and tosses a handful of chips at bin’s face. bin can’t hold in the soft squeal, can’t help but burst into laughter, minhyuk’s expression curling up, grin widening, eyes sparkling.
bin, though, is the first stop, mostly because he’s tired and caught up in his thoughts and unable to stop from mumbling, “what about you? why are you awake at…shit, is it really four in the morning?”
“just hungry.” minhyuk shrugs, so nonchalant.
bin makes a face, “I should have just used that excuse.”
“surprised you didn’t.” there’s another pause, long and drawn out, and bin stares across the table, watches as minhyuk meets his gaze, after a long moment of fiddling with the chip bag in front of him. bin reaches over and pulls out another handful of chips, the crunching sound making minhyuk wince, slightly. there is a look there, he notices, that is almost fond, content, but tired. it is lingering and it reminds bin so vividly of the look in his girlfriend’s face when he’d catch her staring at him.
bin doesn’t know exactly what to call it, though. still, bin’s heart feels as if it’ll burst straight from his chest. his toes curl at the shiver trickling down his spine. minhyuk's tongue darts out, wetting his lips. bin blinks.
his insides feel all twisted up, hazardous, and bin finds he is deflecting. he looks away first, down at the chip bag, digging around for a moment before he grabs another handful. he speaks, through his crunching, mouth full—he can almost hear dongmin telling him to chew first—scratching his neck, “you know what else keeps me up at night? the fact that if we can’t see air, does that mean fish can’t see water?”
minhyuk’s grin is a beautiful thing that fills his face up. bin can’t help but smile in return, watching him, even as minhyuk says, “if you’re asking questions like that, you deserve staying up all night.”
it’s quiet again, a serene silence that reminds bin of right before he left his bedroom.
“bin.” his voice is tiny, as delicate as the pinprick of a needle.
bin looks up, “yeah?”
bin watches minhyuk play with the cup between his palms, sliding it back and forth on the table, the sound a low constant filling the kitchen. minhyuk opens his mouth, looks as if he wants to say something, as if there is something there, lingering between them that needs to be said. bin holds his breath, his heart suddenly pounding, his eyes fixed on minhyuk’s face, his mouth, his fumbling hands. minhyuk opens his mouth, eyes darting between bin’s. there is the beginning of something there, lingering, heightening, filling the tension.
but then—
“ow.” a sweet, soft yelp and corresponding groan echoes through the living room. both bin and minhyuk jump in their seats, startled by the sudden noise.
after a moment, she appears at the doorway, her dark hair messy as she rubs at her eyes, blinking rapidly at the fluorescent lighting of the kitchen. she's wearing one of his sweaters, the sleeves too big, and he is hit with a rapid onslaught of feelings—adoration, guilt, confusion, wonders if he’s just fake or lacking commitment, if he’s awful and greedy like some of the forums he’s read would argue.
“hey.” he gets to his feet.
she is bleary eyed as she glances between bin and minhyuk, mutters, “I was looking for the bathroom.”
minhyuk is the one to say, “that way. first door on the right.”
“thanks.” she grins, hurrying away.
bin looks back at minhyuk and watches as he stretches, yawning. the tension, the moment of serenity where it’s just the two of them and bin’s thoughts seeping under his skin, into the deepest recesses of his mind, building a home there, is gone. it's shattered. his best friend smiles at him, tired.
“I think I’ll go to bed.” minhyuk pauses on his way out, turning slightly to look at bin, his eyes are—they are soft. minhyuk doesn’t crack a joke, doesn’t tell bin to stop frying his already nonexistent braincells on weird thoughts, instead he murmurs, “goodnight.”
(bin wonders why his heart aches a little.
later, bin realizes it’s the last time minhyuk ever looks at him that way. later, bin’s heart aches a lot. he does not wonder why.)