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Yeonjun definitely did not expect this.
When he had inadvertently confessed his feelings to Soobin a few weeks back, he hadn’t expected things to turn out so
Confusing.
If he had planned that confession, the only outcome he would have anticipated was either heart wrenching rejection or pure indifference; both of which were almost equally undesirable. But they were realistic. They were the very things holding Yeonjun back from divulging his feelings in the first place. They were thoughts that kept him safe from teetering off balance and from doing anything stupid and risky. And it was a solid method for some time too. Until his feelings decided to be selfish and actually went rogue.
They hadn’t talked about it since then. A huge part of Yeonjun is relieved, but a little bit of him threatens to slip through the cracks and ask questions.
Soobin didn’t really give him a straight answer. But Yeonjun understands that people who receive confessions are technically not required to give a concrete answer to them right away. Especially not to ones that were terribly and untimely executed. They have every right to be given the time to sort their own feelings out. And Yeonjun feels like asking for an answer is asking for too much.
There are so many times though, when he’d come close.
“What are you doing here, Soobin-ah? I thought you were asleep in your bed already.” Yeonjun asks as he reaches to turn on the tiny lamp overhead.
He can’t bring himself to face the younger boy with the very tiny space separating them. He’s so close that his breath is ghosting the sensitive skin on Yeonjun’s ear.
He is suddenly rid of every trace of sleep.
Soobin had developed a weird habit of slipping into his bed at ungodly hours, which not only wakes him up, but also brings forth an almost intolerable level of hypersensitivity.
“Sorry for waking you up, hyung. It’s just more comfortable here.” Soobin mumbles sleepily.
“You have your own bed, and it has the same mattress and blanket. It has everything my bed has.” Yeonjun says exasperatedly.
“Not everything.” Soobin mumbles, and his eyes seem to be saying much more from what the feeble lighting suggests.
But Yeonjun relents for what seems like the hundredth time and opts to savor the warmth of Soobin’s body closely next to his and breathe in the lemony scent of his shampoo instead.
He sighs and moves to turn the light off. “Fine. Just go to sleep.” At least one of them was going to sleep soundly, and Yeonjun begrudgingly knows it’s not going to be him.
It’s been weeks like this, weeks of Soobin dribbling around Yeonjun’s feelings like a one sided game of basketball. He doesn’t even know how to play basketball, which makes the metaphor all the more unnerving yet still oddly fitting. Because Yeonjun isn’t sure Soobin knows what he’s doing to him.
It’s the surge of unsolicited skinship within the span of three weeks that has Yeonjun’s head spinning.
They have been closer and clingier before, in front of many people, but it was almost always Yeonjun’s initiative. Now Soobin just goes right in without as much as a warning. And every little thing he does feels a little too intimate for Yeonjun’s fragile state of being.
It’s the secretive hand holding post-rehearsals when their dance instructor is delivering a particularly tired lecture. It’s the subtle games of footsie under the table when the younger members are busy having discussions about video games over bowls of jjigae. It’s the eyes that quietly trace Yeonjun’s every move on the practice room mirror reflection, and it’s the lingering touches on the small of his back or his nape whenever they leave or enter a room.
They are all things Yeonjun could have lived without before they happened. Now, after, he’s not so sure. And he’s afraid that if he asks, all of it will disappear and he really will get an answer—just not the good one.
Still, getting an answer should be better than constantly wondering and making assumptions. Just because Soobin has found the crook of his neck a comfortable residency for his face during nights he can’t sleep, doesn’t mean he likes Yeonjun back. And just because he didn’t give a straight answer, doesn’t mean he doesn’t or can’t like Yeonjun back.
Anything is possible.
Everything is confusing.
He hadn’t meant to voice out his frustration in the form of a loud grunt, but of course Beomgyu doesn’t miss the chance to call him out.
“Hyung, are you okay? You sounded like you were pushing a huge one out of your ass.” Beomgyu sets his pen down and offers a thoughtful look. “What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing.” Yeonjun shakes his head.
Beomgyu turns his swivel chair to completely face Yeonjun so he can level him with a frown. “Uhm, I don’t think so. Come on, maybe we can make a song out of whatever it is you’re thinking about.”
Yeonjun scoffs at the idea. That song would be a mess. “No. Just forget about it.” He mindlessly takes a look at the computer screen where he fails to notice that the notes app is flashing a blank page.
“Tell me you’re not pretending to read a blank note on my computer screen.”
Yeonjun recoils slightly. “I didn’t come to your studio to get sassed like this.”
“Yeah, you said you came here to help and you’re not helping.” Beomgyu has the gall to roll his eyes at his hyung.
Yeonjun should have words about that but there’s nothing in his head except thoughts of Soobin.
There’s a minute of solitude after Beomgyu had given up on the conversation. And Yeonjun starts to contemplate talking about his feelings before they completely drive him crazy.
He thinks if he can’t ask Soobin, maybe he can ask someone else.
“If a person suddenly starts acting different around you, what would you think is the reason?”
Beomgyu turns to look at him incredulously. “You have to be more specific.”
“I mean like, they suddenly become really touchy and clingy. And it’s not like, out in the open. It’s more like, behind the scenes. Only the two of you know. That sort of thing.” Yeonjun chews on his lower lip.
Beomgyu furrows his eyebrows, appearing deep in thought. “I would think that person likes me, but doesn’t want other people to know.” He leans back against his chair easily and raises a brow. “Did this person tell me they liked me?”
“No. Not really? But they know you like them.” Yeonjun swallows, sooner regretting his decision to tell Beomgyu.
“This is about Soobin-hyung, isn’t it?”
Yeonjun stiffens in his seat.
Beomgyu sighs and shakes his head. “Look, if you guys are worried about us finding out you like each other, then save yourselves the trouble. We already know.” He rips off the sheet of paper he’d been scribbling on and crushes it in his hands. “Anyone with eyes and half a brain will notice it.”
Okay, maybe it’s not a bad thing that his members know. At least he can actually talk about his frustrations to people with the perspective outside him and Soobin.
He doesn’t bother denying anything except the implication that the feelings between them are mutual. “No, no, he doesn’t like me. At least he hasn’t told me. I don’t want to assume.” He says forlornly.
Beomgyu throws the crumpled paper into a trash bin with the flare of a professional basketball player and doesn’t miss. He pumps his fist in triumph before gracing Yeonjun with a response. “A person doesn’t always have to say it to be feeling it. Maybe he just wants you to feel it rather than hear it.”
Come to think of it, Yeonjun didn’t exactly say he liked Soobin when he “confessed”. Although he did let his lips do the talking, there were no actual words said.
Wait.
“Wait, Beomgyu. That actually makes sense.” Yeonjun finds himself agreeing.
“Of course it does.” Says Beomgyu in that usual smug fashion. “Not just a pretty face.”
It takes some time and a little help from Beomgyu to get him alone with Soobin in the practice room. He feels like he’s in one of those movies where he’s transported back in time so he can do things differently. Except he actually knows exactly what he needs to do.
No, he thinks .
Nothing in life is certain.
Yeonjun is lying face down on the floor, completely disregarding the threat of bacteria. He thinks there might be nothing more poisonous than his desire to be happy and his anxiety fighting for dominance in the confines of his mind. It’s easy to pretend he has his shit down pat. But people don’t realize there’s a certain amount of energy needed to forge that confident facade, and very little of it is left to deal with the real turmoil in the background.
Perhaps he’s being overly dramatic. But it’s been the only way he’s ever learned to cope with his problems.
Choi Soobin is a huge problem.
“Soobin-ah.” Yeonjun calls out weakly.
Soobin hums in response, one hand busy scrolling through his phone while the other rests on the small of Yeonjun’s back. “Do you want a massage, hyung?” He starts gently kneading Yeonjun’s back even before hearing a response.
Yeonjun takes a breath, and then some.
“I like you.”
The words fell out of Yeonjun’s mouth like sand from a broken hourglass. Soobin abruptly retracts his hand from massaging his back.
Time evidently stops.
Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe it was not worth knowing what Soobin would do. Or not do.
Fuck.
“Please say something.” Yeonjun closes his eyes, cheek and heart pressed against the cold hard floor.
It’s severely quiet for a few more seconds before he feels Soobin move around. And then, all of a sudden, he feels unbelievable warmth fanning his face and mouth.
Soobin is gazing back at him when he opens his eyes, lips pink and face flushed, probably from the strenuous dance routine they’ve just finished practicing. Fifteen minutes ago.
“I know. Sorry. I just assumed we weren’t going to do words, hyung.” Soobin says. There’s something skittish about the way he does. Yeonjun swallows.
“I screwed up. I should have said it like that from the beginning.”
“I think you said it just fine.” Soobin smiles at him with dimples to boot. It’s one of those things that make Yeonjun feel at home. “I thought I’ve made it pretty obvious, but I like you too. I like you, hyung.”
Soobin leans in first, closing the already small gap between them. When their lips touch, it’s nothing like the kiss that preceded it. Yeonjun is positively floating. It’s almost like this was how he was meant to feel all along. The dread and uncertainty from before had kept him rooted to the ground, unable to move.
Now his feelings are finally out there along with Soobin’s. For once, there is no room for interpretation.
“Oh fuck. Gross. Is this what things are going to be like now? You two sucking faces at every corner of the dorm?” Beomgyu exclaims, looking scandalized.
Soobin had just kissed a grain of rice from the corner of Yeonjun’s lips. He loves Beomgyu to bits, but there is unparalleled satisfaction from seeing him all worked up whenever he sees him and Soobin being insufferably sweet.
“You know, this wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for you.” Yeonjun tells him, matter-of-factly. “So, thank you.” He actually means it.
Beomgyu softens for a smidgen of a second before he scoffs. “Damn right. Now show your gratitude by letting me eat dinner in peace.”
“Someone’s envious.” Huening Kai mumbles into his yukgaejang before exchanging snickers with Taehyun.
The table erupts in laughter and Beomgyu curses each and every one of them to oblivion.
Soobin holds his hand under the table as he laughs and Yeonjun thinks this is something he could definitely get used to.