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there’s a rabbit hybrid walking on to the stage.
he’s clad in a blazer with a yellow-black tie hung around his neck, but seungwoo can’t help but focus on the pair of dark bunny ears drooping slightly over his forehead. a tentative applause rises from the seats and seungwoo is faintly aware of nearby voices calling the boy handsome and good-looking, but everything is deafened by judging whispers.
the boy smiles nervously, front teeth noticeably seeping into the wary expression, before bowing low at the waist. from so far away, he won’t be able to pick up on what’s being said, but it’s clear that the new arrival has sparked something different in the trainees, the air heavy with shallow interest. seungwoo can’t blame them for their curiousity, no matter how ignorant it may seem. hybrids may have been liberated decades ago, but freedom was and always will be a shaky concept.
when seungwoo had first auditioned, he had been surrounded by hopeful hybrids, but as every monthly evaluation had passed by, more and more of them slipped out of reach until there was only him and his groupmates - each one utterly human - left. the seat he was perched on may have been home to a hybrid at one point too, but a hybrid likely weighed down by criticism and stereotypes that was eliminated too early to be of note.
the trainee is a newbie, somewhat evident in the awkward placement of his limbs and the trembling of his hands, although seungwoo guesses that part of his tension is due to the eyes bearing down on him from above. the trainers list off his impressive accomplishments as an athlete and a sense of impressed shock passes over seungwoo at the boy’s i think i should do what i want. it’s recklessly brave of him to give up everything for a minuscule chance of debut and seungwoo is equally as confused as he is touched by the hybrid’s determination.
but then, when the trainee - kim yohan, he pulls from his memory of only minutes before - walks over to the side of the stage and begins, seungwoo finds his eyes widening involuntarily. the boy’s rough around the edges of course, but there’s a smoothness to his movements and a natural charm that not even months of training could so effortlessly create. the atmosphere slips from casual attraction to enamoured attentiveness in seconds and at the end, when the music starts to fade, the boy’s smile seems a little brighter, a little less forced.
it’s a little early for him to sing such sweet praises towards such a short performance and seungwoo thinks to himself. objectively, the boy is deserving of a b grade, at the highest. his charisma is undeniable but this is idolhood and just one sign of talent can’t get you through safely. but when seungwoo looks down at hands locked tightly together and rabbit ears raised attentively, something rises up in him that he doesn’t quite understand.
i’ll announce oui entertainment’s individual grade. the trainee’s surrounding him make guesses amongst themselves and byungchan hums in approval at seungwoo’s estimate, but there’s a wrongness unfurling in his chest at the scrutiny. trainee kim yohan. the wait, the dramatic suspense for the cameras, grates on seungwoo’s nerves, and then- your grade is a. the hybrid’s eyes are big in surprise and his cheeks puff out in obvious show of disbelief and seungwoo feels the room grow rigid with discontent. the trainers, the experts, see something in this timid boy and seungwoo can’t help his own fascination.
he’ll have to keep an eye on kim yohan.
-
seungwoo is quickly growing tired of watching everyone walk on eggshells around a non-problem.
he could excuse the initial preoccupation with the fact that someone right in front of them was so outwardly different, that there was rabbit ears jutting out of his head and a fluffy tail poking out his pants. but it’s been hours now and they are all attempting to settle in to their dorm and the bunch of them are attempting to avoid the hybrid while actively failing at doing just that, stumbling out of his way in the corridors while shamelessly staring at him from the corner of their eyes.
seungwoo figures it’s the stereotypes that fogged the public’s perception of hybrids at fault. hybrids are very clearly as nuanced as the humans they are partially related to, but society had a tendency to slip them into two narrow categories with defining characteristics that didn’t always ring true. kim yohan was prey, vulnerable and skittish and oh-so-weak, and the trainees were too nervous to encroach on his space for fear of frightening the poor thing.
if he was trying to sugarcoat things, he’d say that they all had the best intentions at heart. but seungwoo has seen his fair share of isolation, in hybrids with striking features and fangs poking out their mouth unfairly punished without any blood on their hands, in hybrids with dainty bones and doe eyes battered beyond belief till their innocence was unrecognisable. it may be unintentional, but they are already close to treating him like an outcast and no one else is willing to make the first move, so it falls upon his shoulders, as everything does.
when seungwoo enters his room (a new space filled with new people and absolutely none of his members, the thought of lacking their comfort settling a heavy ache in his heart), he finds the hybrid’s suitcase open on the small amount of floor available and a wardrobe door unlocked as the boy puts his few belongings away. the room is barren, silent, and there just stands a rabbit in the center, a pair of ryan-themed pyjamas clutched in his hands, a sullen look on his face as he chews on his bottom lip.
seungwoo has no doubts that there is more to kim yohan than some exhausted idea of inescapable fragility. there was a kind of unimaginable strength in limbs that eagerly carried its owner from a stable future into unknown territory. yet one glance at those soft sad eyes crashes through his rationality and marks this boy as something to be protected, someone worthy of his full attention. and so when he walks forward, his voice involuntarily goes tender in tone and what he hopes is a reassuring smile falls onto his lips. “excuse me?”
the hybrid flinches, bunny ears twitching at the sudden noise, and he spins around quickly, blinking up at seungwoo as his round-rimmed glasses slip down his nose. there is very obvious uncertainty in his gaze, as if he is unsure that seungwoo is even talking to him, even though the beds surrounding the two of them are vacant. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you.” seungwoo purposefully keeps his voice apologetic yet easy-going, carefully holding his hand out in front of him. the boy glances at it, then back up at seungwoo’s face with a simple to read expression of scepticism. “i just wanted to introduce myself, since we’ll be roommates. i’m seungwoo.”
the other hesitates slightly, stare searching for something in seungwoo’s friendly expression, before he clasps seungwoo’s hand with shaking fingers. “um, i’m yohan.” a rush of sympathy fills seungwoo at the younger’s clear awkwardness, each word sounded out slowly like he is scared of fumbling his sentences. “it’s nice to meet you.” yohan smiles, a small thing, his eyes lighting up a little when seungwoo provides no signs of judgement at his earlier alarm. there’s something charming about the more content look on his face and seungwoo can’t help but grin back.
“it’s nice to meet you too, yohan.”
-
yohan draws attention to himself like moths to a flame.
at first, it had been observation born out of subtle prejudice. but after seungwoo’s supportive attempts at pulling him into conversations with cautious trainees, as the days go by and the hours in the practice room get longer and a pink sweater turns yellow, yohan blossoms into a social butterfly. without the confines of being a reject, his mixed charm of a cheerful and high-spirited dongsaeng blended with a protective and helpful hyung hauls everyone into his orbit, which is why it’s such a surprise to find him alone in his bed so early in the day.
“yohan-ah?” seungwoo calls out softly, staring at the lone figure curled under the sheets. he knows the younger isn’t napping, the stance of his ears alert and his long form shifting slightly at the sound of seungwoo’s voice. yohan very clearly wishes for a chance for quiet, but there’s something tense in the air, an atmosphere of melancholy that is borderline choking on the senses, and so seungwoo climbs up on to his own bunk, sitting cross-legged as he gently tries again. “yohanie? what’s wrong?”
there’s a pause of silence, and then yohan signs, a heavy thing tinged with fatigue that mirrors the exhaustion in his slumped form as he forces himself up onto his elbows. lacking the barrier of makeup they wore on filming heavy days, the dark circles beneath half-lidded eyes are prominent and there is an unusual amount of agitation marked in the down-turned corners of yohan’s mouth. at seungwoo’s clearly concerned gaze, the hybrid tries to smile but it falls flat on his sleep-deprived features, his words devoid of their normal vibrance. “i couldn’t sleep last night. obviously.”
it hits seungwoo then, just how utterly alone yohan is. the boy’s mind is too loud and there is no one for him to whisper his secrets to in the dead of night when the cameras are finally shut off. everyone else had their own confidants, close friends they had spent every waking moment with for months or even years, and then there is yohan, on his own in a dorm full of people who can’t even begin to understand some of his problems. yohan walked on stage without a hand to hold, already ostracised because of something he was unable to control, and seungwoo is willing to be his shoulder to cry on if yohan wants him to be. “do you want to talk about it?”
yohan bites his lip, the indecision present in his anxious habit more reminiscent of the unsure hybrid seungwoo had met in a desolate dorm room, not the lively yohan that couldn’t stop smiling like a fool and made fast friendships with nearly everyone in sight. but then he’s moving into a more comfortable position so he can face seungwoo directly, the tiredness etched into his skin even more visible up close, the fingers resting in his lap tangled together in another show of anxiety. “i’m just nervous about tomorrow, i guess,” he begins, eyeing seungwoo’s expression for any trace of scrutiny.
it is disheartening to watch yohan be so genuine one moment and then be so frightened the next, but seungwoo manages to stop his motivating smile from wavering. “we’re going to be preparing to actually perform in front of people,” yohan continues, tone dejected and lacking the resolve that had powered him to step up onto the audition stage when the odds were against him. “and i think- i know that this will be my only chance to show what i can do. it’s... daunting. if i don’t do good with this, i’ll be eliminated having disappointed myself and…”
yohan trails off at the sight of seungwoo’s obvious wince and the corners of his mouth twitch upwards in a manner that is both mocking and consoling. “we both know it’s true, hyung. i’m the only hybrid here and i’m not even a hybrid in the way that’s considered attractive.” and it’s an unfortunate truth. the few hybrids in the industry that are thriving fall so effortlessly into stereotypes at no fault of their own, wolves and wild cats under darkened lighting and dancing to a blaringly powerful beat, deer and doves clad in pastel colours and singing in elegant, soft tunes. there may be a childlike quality to the pout on yohan’s mouth and a brightness in his eyes that defies his years of troubled experience, but that doesn’t erase the fact that yohan is tall, broad and the owner of thick muscles strengthened by rigorous training. “maybe if i had different ears or i was dongpyo-ah’s size i’d have a better shot, but the way it is right now means i’ll probably rank low.”
seungwoo doesn’t know what to say. there’s not much he can say, after all. he dived into the industry and gained a family, something irreplaceable, worth more than the fame his company strives for - but he has never known the luxury of overwhelming success and can easily sympathise with fears of failure, of falling behind, of remaining unnoticed. but seungwoo is far too unfamiliar with the ins and outs of being a hybrid and the inherent bias rooted in this society is not his to experience. he’s witnessed it, of course, but only from the perspective of an outsider with a front row seat, watching it unfold with all of the action and facing none of the consequences. “you’re naturally talented, yohan-ah,” seungwoo treads carefully, not wanting to offer false promises of miracles when the both of them are fully aware of just exactly what the younger is up against. “i can’t tell you what will happen in the future and i’m not going to sit here and lie to you. but no matter where you rank, you should prioritise not what people think of you, but what you think of yourself. you gave up so much to get here, you’ve put in so much effort and that’s worth more than whatever they think of you. you deserve more than whatever they give you.”
there is sincerity to the expression that casts over yohan’s features. it’s not quite relief, but it’s something close to it, and even if his anxiety hasn’t lessened, he seems more content, ears drooping softly down from their rigid position. “thank you, hyung,” yohan murmurs his gratefulness for seungwoo’s willingness to listen with a small smile on his face. seungwoo has not known yohan for long but it’s become so apparent that yohan wears his heart on his sleeve, has no dam to hold back his emotions from spilling over, allows everyone to read him like an open book. there’s an earnest honesty to every small word that aches, because yohan seems too good for this, too pure in nature for what he is so willing to take on.
when they both climb down from their bunks, ready to begin the day anew, yohan pauses for a second at the door, before looking up into seungwoo’s eyes with a knowing gaze. “you know, hyung,” he starts, tone casual even with the stare that states he’s aware of exactly what is going on in the older’s mind. “you should listen to yourself sometimes. you deserve more than what they’ve given you too.”
seungwoo isn’t so sure about that.
-
yohan, seungwoo comes to realise, is ridiculously good at everything he tries.
they are in the middle of distributing parts and have come to something of a roadblock. boss, the song they had decided upon, is heavier on rap than most and seungwoo is already preoccupied with the main vocalist position to take on any of the spare lines. jinhyuk is obviously already assigned to that role, but the remaining four vocalists are going to have to take on the task at hand. it is out of their comfort zone, clearly, but it’s not like they have any choice. three of them just look on blankly after jinhyuk’s demonstration and then-
yohan raps, quietly, under his breath, and seungwoo just misses it, but jinhyuk’s tone of happy praise that follows makes him pause for a second. “you try it,” he asks, not failing to catch the glimpse of thinly veiled puzzlement written across yohan’s face, as if he has no clue to why jinhyuk is applauding his skills. the confused expression just grows stronger when yohan begins again and seungwoo can’t help how impressed he sounds. “that was good, you’re good at rapping,” seungwoo exclaims and suddenly, an idea invades his mind and tumbles from his mouth before can fully think it over. “you should be the main rapper.”
yohan freezes, the lost look in his eyes transforming into something a little more frantic as jinhyuk immediately agrees and enthusiastically tries to convince him to accept the position. seungwoo hopes the other gives in to persuasion, if only for his own selfish state of mind. yohan is inexperienced, undeniably inexperienced, lacking the years of moulding and shaping that seungwoo, that byungchan, that seungyoun, that jinhyuk and wooseok, have suffered through - but his easy grasp of rhythm and his diligence and the two mentors on both sides of the hybrid are enough for seungwoo to cling on to as evidence that yohan could truly get somewhere with this new role. i’m a vocalist, yohan protests, in denial of his potential, but seungwoo thinks - no, he knows - that yohan could be even more.
the younger eventually caves and seungwoo breathes a sigh of relief, glad the problem is solved despite yohan’s still evident apprehension. they are in the middle of a break in practice when yohan meekly approaches him, bunny teeth dug into his bottom lip, fingers fiddling with a loose thread on his sleeve, brown eyes flitting around nervously. “hyung?” seungwoo peers up from the lyrics sheet to find yohan timidly trying to meet his eyes. “i wanted to ask,” yohan’s tone is questioning in the worst way, a clear sense of doubt clouding his words. “why did you choose me as main rapper?”
seungwoo blinks. the answer should be obvious, but then he realises this is yohan, who is in equal parts determined and so unsure of himself. “you’re good, yohan-ah.” it’s candid, but it’s not as if there is any other way to put it, even if it’s the exact kind of simplicity that seems to leave yohan unconvinced. “i can see that, we can all see that. dongpyo-ah chose you for this team because you’re talented, me and jinhyuk-ah thought you’d make a good rapper because even without training you’re a natural. yeah, you haven’t been doing this as long as us, but you’ve got something in the making that’s worth showing off. and, well-” seungwoo holds back for a split second, unsure if what he is about to reveal will uplift yohan’s mood whatsoever, but he’s finding it harder to control his filter and it slips out. “i’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday. you didn’t want to be centre and you’d probably end up with less lines as a vocalist, so this was a good spot for you. with this, you might have a real chance of proving yourself like you wanted to.”
the alarm chimes to notify their return to practice but yohan stands still, speechless, and seungwoo just smiles at him until the hybrid gains his footing and stumbles through an appreciative thank you. his eyes are wide and soft and seungwoo has to resist the urge to ruffle his hair, a new feeling he can’t quite place tugging at his heart.
“let’s show them what you’ve got, yohan-ah.”
-
the evaluation day arrives sooner than expected.
in the lack of schedules that had plagued his recent years, seungwoo had become a little bit accustomed to a slow pace. but in between the practice and the coaching and the rehearsals, he is swept away in a sea of lyric sheets and costumes and filming crews. in a self-destructive daze of pushing himself too hard, it’s as if one moment he is standing in the dorms and then as quickly as he blinks he’s suddenly in a dressing room, blankly staring ahead as the stylists lather another layer of makeup over the signs of sleep deprivation glaringly obvious on his skin.
yohan is at his side, as he always seems to be. the two of them are inexplicably drawn together, forever finding themselves in the same space at the same time focused on the same task. seungwoo can’t find it in himself to complain. yohan has a naturally calming presence and there’s something endlessly endearing about how his smile doesn’t just reside on his mouth, but is evident in the relaxed stance of his ears and the bounce of his feet. the hybrid still looks upon everything in the room with a kind of childlike wonder, not yet used the props and the tools so revered by the staff, and if seungwoo was any more awake the younger’s fascination would be far too entertaining.
“you okay, hyung?” seungwoo blearily turns in the direction of yohan’s slightly worried voice and is met with the tone melting to laughter as he casts a bewildered look to the spot where the other’s bunny ears should be. in their place is absolutely nothing, until he peers closer and catches the point where fur is masked by black hair, bobby pins glinting in the heavy artificial light. “the stylists had to pin my ears down, said it didn’t fit the concept,” yohan explains, an easygoing nature to his words as if it’s somehow normal, even as seungwoo stares at him in disbelief. “you didn’t answer my question,” the hybrid points out, raising an eyebrow at seungwoo’s slumped figure.
“i’ll be fine.” and he will be, the tiredness beginning to seep out of his bones in anticipation of the hours to come. adrenaline kicking in. seungwoo finds his gaze glued to the spot where soft fur should be, focus instead centred on how the hybrid takes it in his stride with a smile on his face. it leaves him uneasy, how the stylists had no qualms about restraining appendages that were feeling and vulnerable and something to treat with care. seungwoo had seen himself how yohan preened under junho’s gentle petting in the dorm, even if the hybrid had pretended he was so averse to skinship, and now his rabbit ears are twisted and pulled and- seungwoo can’t get it out of his head that this is just erasing yohan’s identity. it’s hypocritical, truly - there are dozens of teenagers with baby faces shoved into concepts made for someone far more mature and yet it is yohan, so perfectly suited to the vibe of boss, who has to change. “doesn’t it hurt?” seungwoo tentatively asks, just a whisper under his breath, careful to not let the staff nearby hear.
yohan’s fingers ghost over the curve of his ears and seungwoo witnesses the indifference flash to discomfort for a brief moment, before the mask of apathy that had cracked repairs itself. “it’s a little uncomfortable,” he concedes, a defeated smile twitching at the corners of his lips, just barely visible but enough to make seungwoo’s heart sink. both of them are well aware that they can’t go against the stylists’ demands, whether it be something as simple as a foundation shade or the cut of a shirt, or something a little more taxing, like the erasure of one’s self. being a hybrid is an intricate part of yohan’s everything, it shaped him into the paradoxical man at seungwoo’s side, a being of both perseverance and frailty. if it is some kind of plea to the public’s perception, then it is a disingenuous one, because they’ll learn the truth eventually. “but i had to do it with taekwondo too, so i’m used to it,” yohan attempts to soothe the disapproval off of seungwoo’s features, but the clenching of his jaw signals that his irritation isn’t going to dissipate and seungwoo can hear yohan hum in relief when they are directed out of their seats and through to the waiting room.
they sit with their team, and as the performances count down closer and closer to their own, seungwoo finds his eyes fixated back on yohan - at the tenseness of his shoulders and the fidgeting of his hands and the biting of his already raw lips. even without the presence of his bunny ears that always manage to spell out exactly how he feels, seungwoo can feel the anxiety radiating off him and emotion burns in his veins. while seungwoo fears the worst, he wishes for the best. yohan drags out a side of han seungwoo usually reserved for those he spent eons curating a bond with, the side of him overprotective and overly empathetic, drowning under the weight of the burdens he will bear for those he cares for. he curls his fingers around yohan’s shaking own and smiles when the other meets his gaze, reassuring, encouraging, ever the dependable leader.
“good luck, yohan-ah.”
-
ninety-nine votes is a solid middle ground.
it’s not too few, but not too many either. enough that seungwoo feels like he’s getting somewhere, like the stage curtains are rising and light is beginning to shine through onto his wonderland, but not nearing daunting levels, an amount that leads to promises he cannot keep and a lifetime away from his family. one hundred and seventy votes, he could not deal with. the prospect of such a burden, of being so held down by expectations after being paraded around as the public’s top choice from this small group, of being harassed at the whim of hostile netizens and reduced to something less than human, would be troubling. those who favourably catch the eyes of the audience face as many negatives as they do positives, and seungwoo isn’t quite sure he’s ready to immediately slip from unnoticed to undermined.
kim yohan. 170 votes.
seungwoo is vaguely aware of dongpyo and eunsang’s excited cheers, but the sounds around him buzz away to white noise as he watches yohan’s head sink into his quivering palms. junho claps eagerly in applause and jinhyuk curls an arm around the hybrid’s shoulders and all seungwoo can see is what is almost devastation overtaking the uncertainty that had once resided so evidently in the hybrid’s forced smile. no one had expected this. yohan had been so earnestly invested in the idea that he would fall behind his team, would place last and would do so content with what the world was willing to offer him, and now there is something sorrowful in the air, melancholy reflected in yohan’s every move. seungwoo wonders what is spiralling through the hybrid’s mind, whether he assumes the staff are messing with him for some cruel extra entertainment, whether he imagines that he is still deep in his own dreams and that the best is falsified by his own headspace. yohan deserves the votes flashing up on the screen, but he deserves a peaceful state of mind just as much.
the room offers their congratulations as yohan digs his fingertips beneath his eyes and seungwoo wants to will away the tears glistening on the curve of his skin, wants to take the pieces of yohan’s heart littered across the clinical flooring and stitch them back together again. he doesn’t miss the concerned glances his team are sending yohan’s way as the other curls back in on himself, but he gestures from them to join the other team. introducing the group to the audience, honing in on any faults or flaws in each rehearsal, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and this, becoming the support system for a shattered hybrid - it’s all seungwoo’s responsibility. and so he slides in place beside the quivering rabbit, placing a comforting hand on the small of yohan’s back and frowning when he feels the tremors running through his spine. “yohan-ah?” he whispers, voice soft and small, attempting to afford the other at least some privacy as he breaks down. “what’s wrong?”
there is silence, as yohan utters nothing and the others’ small, worried chatter fades into the background and seungwoo feels pity decorate every inch of him, from the stress-formed wrinkles on his forehead to the way his hand squeezes the hybrid’s small waist comfortingly. seungwoo’s spare fingers gently tug at the hands still locked over a sickly pale face and he watches the last droplets of strength trickle out of yohan’s muscles, shuddering palms pulled away from his eyes with tender touches. yohan won’t meet his gaze, but the haunted glaze over his eyes is clear as day, unshed tears clinging to dark eyelashes matching the quivering of his lips and the worn out quality to his entire deteriorating figure. “i don’t deserve this,” yohan absentmindedly tangles his fingers in his disheveled hair, pulling with enough force that seungwoo thinks it’s an attempt to keep himself grounded. “you and jinhyuk-hyung worked so hard helping me and i- i don’t-” yohan’s already wavering voice cracks and the dam breaks, tears spilling over his cheeks and staining unmissable paths in its wake. “i don’t understand.”
seungwoo instinctively wipes away the tears with a move of his thumb, hand cupping the side of yohan’s face so delicately with an indescribable amount of care infused in his fingertips, as if the hybrid could shatter like glass at one wrong touch. “it’s okay, yohanie,” he says uselessly, although his words do nothing to staunch the flow of endless sorrow from the boy who cares too much about others and not about himself. strong arms drag yohan into his embrace and tears begin to soak through the neck of his uniform, but seungwoo just buries his face into soft hair, feeling the scrape of fur and pins beneath as he struggles to pull the both of them together, struggles to erase his own passion and instead bring some life back into yohan’s dying energy. “you deserve this. you’ve worked so hard and people can see it, yohan-ah, they’re paying attention. everyone knows you deserve this.”
there is only a few moments left before the staff will be forced to herd all of them out of the room, ready to stomp over the pieces of yohan’s cracked soul without any concern in their avaricious eyes, but seungwoo wants to stay here forever, with yohan wrapped in his arms and whispered praises passing from ear to ear. even if the hybrid is silently sobbing into the curve of seungwoo’s shoulder, there is something warm, utterly warm, about the closeness the two of them have found themselves trapped in, something so heartfelt about how yohan clings desperately to his jacket and searches for answers in his hushed voice. seungwoo lingers for a second on the thought that yohan fills an empty space in his chest eroded away by the demon on his shoulder that reiterated the failures that no one was willing to talk about to his face. he was always desperately missing something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on and now being here with yohan - it feels like coming home.
maybe seungwoo is out of his mind. maybe the stress has made him delirious. what he does know for sure is that yohan is too selfless for his own good. even though yohan will stare in awe at his phone screen, watching the fancam views pile up and up till they are in the millions and the comments are full of praise for a rabbit with eyes like a deer in the headlights - even though yohan will stand unsteady on a platform and hear his name called first out of a hundred and one, as seungwoo stares down at him with a smile prideful and the chance of being center falls into place - even though yohan is faced again and again by the fruits of his labour, the evidence of how far he has come and how far is left for him to go - he will still pour his heart into training and into vehemently defending his stance that everyone around him deserves his spot more than he does.
seungwoo has seen a lot over his twenty-six years of living but he doesn’t think he’s ever met someone as pure-hearted as kim yohan.
-
seungwoo wonders if it’s fate that him and yohan keep ending up together.
picking up that piece of card that spelled out me after you lead him back into yohan’s open arms unintentionally. he rounds the corner and suddenly the always there focus of a camera lens is joined by all the trainees’ hopeful eyes locking on to his figure in a manner that prickles at his skin uncomfortably. it’s not as if seungwoo is unused to being depended on - after all, for three years the official position as leader had been his and he’d held onto it as if it was a lifeline, so easily undertaking the struggles of his group and replacing any signs of doubt in his members with an abundance of affection - but this, such frank admiration from all sides, is a little more than unfamiliar. but he puts on an unaffected facade, walks forward with purpose as if his knees don’t protest with every step and strides towards the sign that matches the words in his hands to be met with the boy he just can’t seem to keep his mind off.
yohan hops when he realises seungwoo is heading in his direction, eyes startled but the smile overcoming his features very, very pleased, and even if there wasn’t those fluffy ears on his head, seungwoo couldn’t compare the other to anything but a shocked bunny. the world around him melts away when he’s faced with yohan’s unfairly endearing expression and the corners of his own mouth twitch up unwillingly out of compulsion, the urge building up inside of him to keep brown eyes sparkling for as long as possible. yohan’s reaction is… cute, really cute, and the ease in which the thought passes through seungwoo’s mind is atypical and maybe somewhat concerning, but the beaming grin he receives is enough to erase away any hasty flashes of worry and the way yohan’s arms curl around his shoulders is enough to make seungwoo’s head go blank.
the hybrid had sometimes shown such an aversion to physical contact, recoiling when jinhyuk placed a steady hand on his shoulder or ducking out of junho’s attempts to nestle snugly together in the older’s bed, but now he’s sweeping into seungwoo like a whirlwind, rapidly eradicating any other feeling but warmth. yohan, who was so utterly sensitive to touch, who shied away unless it was bestowed upon him in the most vulnerable moments (and seungwoo hates thinking of the tears that still chilled his skin the next morning and the way yohan wouldn’t meet his eyes for days and the red-rimmed, drained, blank look that wouldn’t leave the features that shine best with pure happiness), is pressed so tightly against him - and seungwoo glows under his attention, a wide smile trespassing onto a loose mouth that almost lets go a small admission of you’re beginning to own my heart.
and yet there still manages to be an almost uncomfortable undertone to their embrace. seungwoo’s arm is slung loosely around yohan’s waist but the hybrid’s limbs are locked so taut around him and his fingers are clenched tightly in seungwoo’s shirt, as if yohan doesn’t want to pull away, as if yohan wants them to stay chained together for as long as his strength will let them. but then seungwoo blinks and the tenseness in the other’s knuckles is gone, disappearing as quickly as seungwoo happened upon it, as if it was simply a subconscious move that stopped the minute yohan slipped back into reality and slipped out of seungwoo’s space. seungwoo isn’t dense enough to assume that yohan had no one before this competition, his easy charm being evidence enough that he had to at least have attracted other hybrids into his atmosphere, but he’d sat through yohan’s interview, heard in passing the hybrid speak of strict parents and small injuries that built and built till they were unbearable and the hours spent in a dorm room alone as his teammates trained and his family drifted too far away. seungwoo hesitates to diagnose the other as touch-starved, but a vice grip around his heart twists.
when rabbits get lonely, they can die.
later, after the crown sticker was placed ceremoniously on his chest and he finds himself center stage, seungwoo obtains the courage to ask the question that has been resting on the tip of his tongue. the pair of them are sitting against the wall, thankfully far enough away from the rest of their team that seungwoo can speak with confidence that they won’t hear the flustered edge to his voice, and yohan is humming the lyrics softly under his breath, tapping the beat gently on his thigh. “yohan-ah?” seungwoo murmurs and yohan tilts his head up, an inquisitive glint to his brown eyes and he finds himself wondering how many times those eyes have filled up with tears in the darkness of an empty room, how many days yohan had spent without a single crutch to help him get through the hours of silence, how many weeks it had taken for the hybrid to bend till he broke and could take it no longer - and seungwoo has to physically tear away his stare, the realisation of the younger’s lonely existence too much to bear. “why were you so happy to be on the same team as me?”
seungwoo doesn’t expect the other to look at him incredulously, as if the initial answer is too obvious for him to miss, unaware of the overbearing thoughts muddling with seungwoo’s mind, distracting him from everything but the image of the performance prior and how yohan had burrowed deep into his tear-stained jacket, dug through his chest, bypassing his weak defences and landed right in seungwoo’s heart, nesting a home there. “we needed a main vocal, hyung. sure, junho-ah, hyeonbin-ah and ziyue-hyung are good, but no one can hit high notes like you can,” yohan states, matter-of-fact, a surety behind the proclamation of seungwoo’s talent, and it’s impossible not to pick up on how yohan deliberately leaves himself out of the equation, forever downplaying his own progress. “and, well…” yohan trails off and seungwoo watches in fascination as a soft pink rises up his neck and towards his cheekbones, before the hybrid rushes his words out in an embarrassing ramble. “you were the first person here to actually treat me like i’m normal, and yeah, the others have mellowed out a lot and they’re my friends but… i like being on a team with you. it makes me feel safe.”
safe rests heavy in the air between them. seungwoo traces how the blush decorating yohan’s face darkens, bunny teeth digging into his bottom lip out of shame, as if the admission was only ever meant to reside in the confines of yohan’s private playing field. suddenly, seungwoo is overwhelmed by how absolutely, truly, entirely unfair kim yohan is, messing so easily with his emotions and being so utterly unknowing of how hard he’s making it for seungwoo to breathe. he drops his head down against yohan’s own, noting with an immense fondness the squeak yohan lets out when he accidentally lands on the tip of the hybrid’s ears, glad the angle will hide the serene and slightly shy smile that overtakes his lips. “yohanie,” he sing-songs, a lilting quality to his voice that comes to him naturally. “i’m glad i’m on the same team as you too.”
and if the price to pay for witnessing yohan’s embarrassment is just some knowing, exasperated glances from junho, then it’s entirely worth it.
-
the world keeps throwing surprises seungwoo’s way; it begins with a youthful, sinless hybrid and continues on to his first taste of victory.
seungwoo gives everything his all, pours every ounce of energy he has left in the body he can’t help but overwork into training and improving and moving forward, spills his guts to absolutely no one and keeps so silent so his loved ones can carry on blissfully unaware of the effort he once dealt with that he can no longer match. it’s a quality of his he had been proud of, once upon a time, because even if he was slowly killing himself, he was destroying himself for something, mutilating the hope and soul that had once resided for the end goal of triumph. but now it feels utterly useless, wasted away for years and for absolutely no pay off. a sliver of optimism had arose during boss, but it died as fast as it was birthed. the public are fickle, clinging onto just a couple trainees for the long run, and seungwoo isn’t deluded enough to imagine himself as one of the lucky few. and so, he sits, chin resting on his palm, barely attempting to cover up the feelings of never-ending dread that writes all over his face when he lets the mask fall.
he knows - no, they all know that yohan will end up in first place. it’s inevitable and seungwoo is the opposite of resentful. as much as the knowledge that failure is inescapable burns, tearing at his insides with a flame so hot that is nothing like the fading brightness of his cheer, pinning any blame on yohan is impossible. he could never be bitter, in part because it’s yohan and seungwoo is so weak for him it hurts, in part because a hybrid making this much of an impact is unheard of and seungwoo doesn’t want to play into the role of an oppressor, isn’t willing to undermine the achievements of someone who has faced so much bias from all angles. when yohan says he’ll be in last place with the kind of certainty that marks the insecurity that has plagued the hybrid ever since seungwoo laid eyes upon him, seungwoo could scoff, but he doesn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t. it’s damaging just how little yohan believes in himself, each little malice-filled word abusing seungwoo’s patience, and sometimes he wishes he could take yohan by the shoulders and pour his heart out into convincing the younger just how much his work has paid off. “you’ll be in first place,” seungwoo murmurs, a casual acceptance to his own downfall, the i’ll be last place existing as a far too present undertone.
“no, it’s really not me,” yohan shakes his head and seungwoo turns his way with protests on the tip of his tongue, but he freezes, mute at the sight of something different twisting in yohan’s expression. yohan chews on his lips as he always seems to do in panicked moments, a nervous habit that was too easy to pick up on, and his hands are twined together tight, knuckles going white with the pressure - but there is a distinct shine of rebellion in his eyes, a pleading edge to the petulant curl of his mouth, an emotion boiling under the surface that seems so out of place on yohan’s gentle face. “i’m really not first,” yohan says softly with steel-hard conviction and seungwoo doesn’t understand. this isn’t born out of self-doubt, this is something made from an entirely different mould, and for someone who is usually so effortless to read, there isn’t a single hint in yohan’s stance of his inner thoughts. seungwoo’s head spins with the heat of the brightly lit room and the sudden switch in the hybrid’s demeanour and then-
suddenly, it’s as if the world has tilted on its axis, junho’s arms are curled around his chest and zi yue’s hands are pressing down weightly on his shoulders and his name is there, on the screen, followed by a number one. “seriously?” his voice is heavy with shock but light with elation, a disbelieving smile settling on his mouth, and then the brightness dims for a second, because yohan is last,yohan is last, and his head shoots up and - yohan is glowing, a beaming smile on bitten-red lips, tension melting out of his shoulders, eyes glinting with innocent happiness. seungwoo’s breath catches in his throat at the sight of his sun, burning so radiant with stars in his gaze, and seungwoo thinks that no constellations in the night sky could be as dazzling as the daylight right in front of him. “i can’t believe it.” he’s dumbfounded and the words repeat over and over again through his mind in a mantra, meaning torn between the surprise of his own win and the confusion that yohan seems so utterly content with his own loss. “how did this happen? how am i in first place?” tone tinged with wonder, his distress must be a masterpiece for the editors who will pick the footage to pieces later and at least there is no heartache on the big screen but rather hope to broadcast across the country, although seungwoo can’t help but wonder how they will manage to cover up the blatant worship in his glances to the hybrid who can’t stop smiling.
the team huddle together in a group hug and seungwoo can’t wipe the grin off his face, but it is joined by an expression of another origin when he faintly hears hyeonbin questioning yohan under his breath. yohan answers, confidently, steadily, without a single waver, i’m fine, i actually wanted him to be ranked first, and the minuscule chain of restraint seungwoo had attempted to trap his feelings in shatters. yohan lets out a noise of shock when seungwoo curls around him, fitting the hybrid’s head under his chin, the fur of yohan’s ears brushing against his neck, seungwoo’s nose pressed in soft hair. “you’re amazing,” he whispers fervently, words muffled, but seungwoo knows the other can hear him from the heat that flushes over yohan’s cheeks and the way tentative fingers twist into his woolen sweater. they cling to each other for far too long but seungwoo needs this, needs to convey the gratefulness for such a selfless act, because yohan had been praying that anyone but himself came first, had devoted and donated his longing for success to someone else, had been willing to give up that first spot out of nothing but kindness. yohan is so self-sacrificing and-
seungwoo doesn’t think anyone can blame him for falling so easily for a boy like that.
-
han seungwoo is whipped for kim yohan and he is doing an absolutely terrible job of hiding it.
example one: u got it is chosen for him and it’s telling that a large part of seungwoo is more focused on whether or not he’ll meet yohan’s doe eyes as he opens the door to a room full of his fellow trainees, rather than the track he’ll spend the next week or two slaving over. luckily, yohan is right there, front teeth seeping into the casual smile when he sees the older. as soon as seungwoo sits on the practice room floor, yohan is scurrying over to his side like a skittish little rabbit, and absently seungwoo recognises that maybe he should be a little more irritated that the other is trailing at his heels like a stray puppy to it’s new owner, but instead he just smiles widely and ducks affectionately into the hybrid’s side. seungwoo tries and fails to not notice the way yuvin’s eyebrow rises, suddenly aware of the shovel talk he’s about to receive from yohan’s best friend, but it’s worth it to see yohan suddenly so flustered by the fondness.
example two: the names of who will stay in the team are being revealed and yohan plays with them, giving little meaningless clues and hints to the next person as the pleased grin of being first on that list never leaves his lips. and when seungwoo calls yohan mean with a teasingly exasperated voice, he swears yohan’s giggle is the best thing he’s ever heard. example three: they are getting prepared in the dressing room and he can’t tear his gaze from the curve of yohan’s neck and the choker soldily curled around it, and it takes everything in him not to preen when he catches yohan staring at the exposed stretch of skin over his shoulders. example four: yohan’s name is announced as first, a well-deserved spot, but seungwoo is the only one to catch a glimpse of disappointment passing through soft eyes and the minute the cameras are off, seungwoo tugs the hybrid into a gentle embrace. good people are like candles; they burn themselves up to give others light, seungwoo thinks, focus never taken off yohan’s inability to prioritise himself over anyone else.
and now he’s onto example five. the remaining trainees have all taken refuge in a single practice room, the younger ones huddled together, skipping from topic to topic in the blink of an eye in an attempt to humour themselves in a brief break from their worries. seungwoo is (predictably) right next to yohan, sitting in a comfortable silence that manages to ease the ache in his muscles just a little bit, and he tries to ignore dongpyo casting a knowing smile in his direction, mischief reminicist of the time he’d asked seungwoo if it was too early to call yohan his other dad yet. he faintly tunes into the background noise and finds the kids lost in a conversation about what they would have been if the competition had never found them, with minhee insisting he wanted to be a botanist and hyeongjun chiming in with a i guess the hyungs would still be atheltes: seungwoo-hyung and seungyoun-hyung doing soccer, yohan-hyung doing taekwondo - and suddenly yohan tenses at his side, bunny ears ruffled and rigid, an expression of unease flashing over his features. “yohanie, you okay?” seungwoo queries, before he realises what must have made the hybrid so stiff out of nowhere, sighing at yohan’s failed attempt to cover up the slip in his calm facade. the boy was too expressive for his own good. “it’s about what the kids are talking about, right? you can tell me anything, yohan-ah.”
yohan bites his lip and reaches out for seungwoo’s hand, playing with his fingers in an attempt to distract himself - and back when this all began, back when yohan was just a nameless hybrid who seemed so scared of every little thing around him, this kind of intimacy would have seemed impossible, and yet now yohan trusts seungwoo so whole-heartedly, enough to spill out every little worry that strikes his nervous heart. “i love taekwondo, but i’d never go back to it. not now, not ever,” yohan murmurs, his small smile betrayed by the way his lips tremble, tone resigned to his own fate. “i was a hybrid in a human’s sport - well, that isn’t entirely accurate. i was prey in a predator’s sport. everyone assumed i wouldn’t win just because i’m a rabbit, and when i did beat them, they’d accuse me of anything and everything. i never cheated, i knew that, the judges knew that, they knew that, but it was easier to say that then accept some weak hybrid beat them.” seungwoo had some inkling of what yohan had faced, pieced together from memories of school hallways full of discriminatory whispers and humans too big for their boots shoving hybrids who never fought back into classroom walls, but he had hoped, begged, that yohan had escaped that sort of treatment. it was useless. simply wishing can save no one.
“my dad didn’t really fully get it,” yohan admits, head drooping to rest on seungwoo’s shoulder, and he nuzzles into the younger’s hair, a weak effort to show solidarity, to show the support yohan had deserved years ago when he entered a scene designed entirely against his kind. “he’s a predator, after all, but i got stuck with my mum’s ears and that was enough to get a lot of people to stand against me. he thought if i stuck with it for long enough i’d prove them wrong, but boys will be boys.” yohan smiles soulessly, tight-lipped, the complete opposite of his open displays of joy. “i stayed on because my dad wanted me to and it wasn’t like i had a lot of other options, but eventually someone took things too far and… i couldn’t deal with it anymore. i decided enough was enough. i just auditioned out of curiousity, i never thought a company would actually want me, i just wanted to give it a shot before i moved onto a ‘hybrid-safe’ job. i thought if i never took the chance to debut, then i’d regret it forever. and then, this all happened.”
“it wasn’t just that either,” yohan continues, twining his quivering fingers with seungwoo’s own, tightly, clinging to something grounding to keep focused. “living the way i did wasn’t living at all. it ended up feeling like everything was taken from me. sometimes the kids mention games or tv shows and i have no idea what they’re talking about.” there was always a childlike quality to the way yohan interacted with toys the staff offered for small segments and seungwoo had always assumed it was just yohan’s youthful charm, that he was naturally inclined to seem so fascinated with every little detail in spite of witnessing it before, but this was not what he expected. “i don’t want to be dramatic, but it almost feels like it stole my youth away. i think i should do what i want and what i want is to be able to feel like i can live comfortably and do the things that make me happy. being an idol isn’t all it’s made out to be, but performing makes me happy in a way i know another path in life couldn’t.”
“you’re strong, yohan-ah,” seungwoo blurts out without a second thought. he wonders, if he had been in yohan’s position, would he have taken the abuse? would he have continued on as far as he could go before his legs gave out? they’re both too stubborn, one more than the other still, and maybe that’s why it feels like they’re made for each other. “but even with that, i’m here for you. i’ll help you catch up with everything, okay?” yohan peers up, blinking, but then the fear of a thousand hardships melts from his features and he’s delving further into seungwoo’s side, so tightly pressed together to the point seungwoo doesn’t know where he begins and yohan ends. the affection burns in the best way and he smiles wider than he has in years. it’s another promise he might not be able to keep, unaware of whether the final lineup has a spot for han seungwoo, unknowing of whether or not he even wants to debut all over again - but he what he is aware of, what he knows best, is that he’d do anything to keep yohan smiling.
all it took was the arrival of one hybrid in life to turn him into a lovesick fool.
-
the bright lights are blinding.
seungwoo’s heart races. his legs are barely stable, sore from what felt like eons standing on a crowded platform waiting for those shouted words cascading over the chatter of fans and the nervous mumbles of the other trainees, his friends, his new family. he blinks wearily down at the sea of flashing cameras and slogans with his name printed in bold lettering and cheering faces with no name, eyes glistening with unshed tears.
han seungwoo. third place.
he stumbles down the stairs, catches wooseok in a hug and whispers words of a comradery formed from shared experience, presses a firm hand against eunsang’s shaking back, laughs in disbelief alongside a starry-eyed seungyoun. hangyul, junho, dongpyo, minhee, hyeongjun, dohyon - they all fall into step beside him, assured and confident of his direction, and seungwoo can almost taste the words that will come with leading their introduction. and then he turns and-
kim yohan. first place.
yohan is where he belongs, front and center, gazing over the turbulent sea just inches from his feet. his eyes are wide and his ears are shocked straight and his tie looks damp from where he’d pressed it against tear-soaked skin. his fingers tremble, hand clenched into fists, nails cutting into his palm. seungwoo can hear it even now, the i don’t deserve this, you and jinhyuk-hyung worked so hard helping me and i- i don’t- i don’t understand that had haunted him in the dead of night when all he could think of was the hybrid who would tear out his own beating heart if it would bring joy to another for just a second.
“we made it, hyung,” yohan smiles.
yohan is talking of escaping prejudice and assumptions and the never-ending expectations that pushed and pushed and pushed until nothing more could be given. seungwoo is talking about the long quest through the darkness of the backstage and making it past the curtain, about finally being seen by someone, anyone. there’s still hardships ahead, but the two of them can breathe a little easier now. there’s still hardships ahead, but seungwoo no longer feels too big for his own skin, no longer feels like his whole body protests against every little move. there’s still hardships ahead, there’s still a hollowness where each one of his members resides, but he takes yohan’s hand with a steady resolve.
“yeah.” seungwoo says softly. “yeah, we did, didn’t we?”
-
everything becomes a blur.
between the photobook filming and the magazine covers and the variety shows and the music stages, seungwoo can barely catch a break. one minute he’s at the music video shoot, resting in between takes next to yohan, the hybrid excitedly rambling about every little thing on his mind, still ever so interested by the inner workings of what it means to be an idol. i think it’s just hitting me now how real this is, yohan giggles, staring starstruck at the set, and seungwoo is so endlessly endeared that the you’re so cute comes out louder than it means to. he’s sure the rest of them will tease them over it for hours to come and so, with no dignity left to lose, he finally caves to the urge and brushes his lips gently over yohan’s forehead, laughing till his stomach aches when yohan turns an unnaturally bright shade of red and pulls his ears over his face to hide his embarrassment.
the next minute he’s on stage, clad in a soft sweater and casting hearts at the audience, keeping close attention from the corner of his eye on yohan perched on a chair, uncontainable energy evident in how he can’t keep still, injured leg bouncing to the beat of the music. in between continuous performances, seungwoo drifts to the other’s side, petting the hybrid’s ears in an attempt at comfort, rubbing his thumb over the small, barely noticeable scar on the edge of one. his ankle will heal, but this reminder will stay forever and seungwoo frowns, noticeably. but one look at the rest of yohan - with seungyoun’s checkered jacket still draped over his shoulders and butterfly confetti still stuck to his cheek and his hair still messy from hangyul’s handiwork - has a smile quickly returning to his face.
and now, he’s exhausted, tiredness digging right down to his core, bones weighed down by hours of non-stop activity. the day went by in a flash of pre-recordings and car rides, as he placed finishing touches on new lyrics that the company would review and prepared for tomorrow’s grueling schedule. and then his room, which had transformed into something close to a confession booth for anyone’s troubles (a fact he wasn’t discontent with, always eager to please, although it just added to the fatigue), was invaded by several members of the maknae line. after it all, seungwoo has found himself in silence, settled on a wooden chair that’s far too uncomfortable against his stiff muscles, sitting all alone at an empty table. he’s on what might be his fifth cup of coffee, losing count after a couple drinks, although it now rests cold in his hand, fingers both tense and loose around the mug’s handle. it’s impossible for him to move now, blurry vision fixated on absolutely nothing, every inch of him weary and faint as he tries to gather enough energy to stagger back to a nice, warm, soft bed.
just barely, through the haze and his pounding headache, he catches the sound of rustling bed sheets and gentle footsteps and the click of a door handle. seungwoo sees the rabbit ears first, before he catches yohan peeking out past the door to his and dongpyo’s shared room, his hair an untamed mess and his eyes heavy with sleep as he rubs his palm over his face. yohan stumbles over to the sink, grabbing a glass and gulping down water before blinking blearily, gaze sharpening as it lands directly on seungwoo’s barely conscious figure on the other side of the room. “seungwoo-hyung, what are you doing up? it’s late,” yohan frowns, setting his cup down quietly and keeping his voice light in an effort to not wake any of the other members. seungwoo can tell it’s long past midnight, the room swathed in darkness apart from the dim lamp in the corner that he’s surprised he even managed to turn on with how muddled his mind is, and if he had any sanity left, he’s sure he’d manage to berate himself over his inability to rest. yohan waves a hand in front of his vision and seungwoo snaps back to reality, confused on how yohan managed to reach him without him realising. he’s far too gone to think properly, though, and he stares up at yohan’s disbelieving expression with a blank face.
even though yohan is a bunny, there has always been something beneath his softness, a hard edge built from years as an older, wiser brother devoted to a career so draining. it’s visible in the way he scolds hyeongjun when he forgets his bag before settling into a more playful glare, in the way he keeps the younger members motivated backstage with gentle grins and exaggerated reactions, in the way he keeps a close eye on wooseok when the other seems close to breaking point and falls in place beside seungyoun to help keep up the energetic atmosphere. yohan knows. he always knows. even if he isn’t their leader, he is their center, a position just as demanding, as he takes everything upon himself to keep the ten of them at least somewhat soothed. “hyung,” yohan murmurs, unimpressed. seungwoo wonders if this is the kind of scolding tone he’d use on his younger sisters when he caught them staying up after hours and it makes seungwoo feel small for once in his life, unused to the disapproval he can’t seem to laugh off. “you need to go to sleep. now.”
seungwoo doesn’t even have the chance to reply before yohan curls his hand around his arm and pulls him up onto his feet, mug clattering onto the table and spilling the remaining dregs of coffee onto the surface, although the hybrid seems so vexed that he’s ignorant of the noise. seungwoo almost assumes that yohan is about to drag him forcefully by any one of his sore limbs, but the younger just guides him carefully, slowly, the opposite of the chastising glances he can’t stop sending from the corner of his eye. when they arrive into his room, yohan just pushes seungwoo gently till he’s resting on the bed, a concerned but approving smile overtaking his lips as he notices the way seungwoo is so clearly swaying, ready to sleep after throwing himself into doing far more than he can handle. a hand ruffles through seungwoo’s hair, mouth open to likely to say goodnight, but seungwoo reaches up and loosely grasps with no strength at yohan’s wrist. “stay,” he whispers, voice hoarse from overuse, gaze puppy-like and pleading. “i’ll sleep better if you’re here.”
it’s a lie. seungwoo is so close to passing out and there’s absolutely nothing holding him back from falling into the realm of sleep, but he doesn’t quite want to let go of yohan yet either. and while he fully expects the hybrid to decline, it’s worth a pitiful shot. seungwoo may be one of the only people who can slip casually into bolder skinship without yohan panicking, but sleeping together, tightly packed in the same bed, might be taking it a little too far. but he finds himself pleasantly surprised when yohan bites his lip, troubled expression spelling out that he’s at war with some inner part of himself, before he hesitantly nods and seungwoo takes the chance before yohan can change his mind to drag him down into his arms. yohan squeaks at the sudden shift, whining loudly in protest at the strangling grip he has around his middle and seungwoo chuckles a little too loud at the indignation on his bunny’s face. it takes them a few moments to get fully comfortable, yohan’s ears smacking him in the face a couple of times before seungwoo eventually swings yohan’s leg over his hip and curls his strong arms around the hybrid’s small waist. it feels oddly intimate, a deep territory they have yet to cross over into until now, and seungwoo falls back on the expressions of endearment he knows too well, brushing his lips lightly against the mole on yohan’s forehead. “why do you keep doing that?” yohan questions, a pretty shade of red rising onto his cheeks, so noticeable even in the lack of light.
“i think you know why,” seungwoo teases, pressing another kiss on the tip of yohan’s nose just to watch the flush of pink darken even more. “am i not allowed to show you my love?” the sleep-deprivation must be really playing with him, because he did not mean to say anything about his feelings when he’s so out of it. yohan casts him a look of stop messing with me and it’s so baffling that yohan is so observant of everyone else’s emotions but is in such deep denial of how anyone feels for him. seungwoo had grown so open and honest with the way the hybrid tugged at his heartstrings that it would be impossible and the refusal to accept it has a rush of adrenaline dulled slightly by exhaustion running through his veins. “you know, ever since i saw you at the auditions, there was just something about you that i couldn’t pull away from. you work so hard and care so much and i couldn’t stop myself from wanting to get closer to you,” seungwoo slurs, but even if his delivery isn’t coherent and even if he’s barely aware of what he’s saying, the words are heartfelt. “i’m probably going to regret this in the morning, but the reason why i’m so clingy is because i love you, am in love with you, whatever you’d call it. probably since me after you, if i’m being honest with myself.”
“hyung, say that again, slowly this time,” yohan stares up at him, doe eyes wide, words laced with skeptical amusement, giggling nervously. “see i thought you just said-”
“that i’m in love with you?” seungwoo finishes, a captivated smile cascading over every inch of his washed out features. “yeah, i am.” it’s a far too casual reveal of the emotions that has plagued seungwoo ever since a blazer-clad bunny strode onto stage in heelys and captured his utmost attention. yohan peers up at him, slack-jawed, fingers trembling from where they are curled into his shirt. the hybrid is so candid with his feelings, a puppet to his emotions as he lets them decorate his skin so obviously, and the shock mixed with longing won’t leave his stare. “i probably should have told you when i’m a little more awake, but i’m sick of waiting.” seungwoo had grown weary of seungyoun and hangyul’s eager teasing, had grown tired of being allowed to touch a little but never enough for his starved, selfish hands, had grown so sick of resisting the urge to let go of all his reservations and make yohan his, make himself yohan’s. “can i kiss you now?” he breathes out, holding back the laughter that builds up his throat when yohan nods so keenly.
cradling yohan’s face in his large hands, he kisses yohan, once, twice, thrice, again and again until the fatigue comes back in full force and he slumps over, nuzzling softly into the space between yohan’s ears. the touch is tender, gentle even though yohan looks so shy and demure and seungwoo wants to press him down into the sheets and kiss him hard till they are both breathless. “‘love you,” he murmurs again, managing a ghost of a smirk when yohan buries his burning face into seungwoo’s chest. yohan doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to, not now, not yet. seungwoo knows. he’s always known - those admiring gazes were clues enough, if not for the several times he’s walked in on junho provoking the hybrid with imitations of his reactions to every little thing seungwoo does - and he’s willing to wait to hear those three words. he’d wait forever for yohan, no matter the cost, no matter the consequences, no matter the hurt. “goodnight, bunny,” seungwoo whispers, edging over the cliff into nothingness, eyes slipping shut with the last sight of yohan’s embarrassed smile.
and as he slips into unconsciousness, he’s sure he hears it.
“i love you too, hyung.”